


Lovely Fox

by Jwink85



Category: South Park
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Intimidation, Lingerie, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse, Pole Dancing, Power Exchange, Recreational Drug Use, Rope Bondage, Sexual Violence, Smut, Stockings, Submission, Sugar Daddy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwink85/pseuds/Jwink85
Summary: Kyle can turn tricks and work the pole, can even (almost) handle having Damien for a pimp, but is he ready to take on a strange new client?
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker, Kyle Broflovski/Damien Thorn
Comments: 52
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fic inspired by Angel from Hazbin Hotel, lol. I like smart mouthed Kyle - I especially like him when he clashes with Damien and Craig (both for different reasons, of course). I especially love the idea of him being besties with Tweek; they're so cute together!! :3
> 
> Writing this purely for fun bc I'm down on my abilities right now, but I hope someone enjoys this nonsense. ❤🤣
> 
> ENJOY!

_**You’re actually innocent and pure** _   
_**A devilish charm like a lovely fox** _   
_**The more I think about you, the more I fall for you** _

_**\- Lovely Fox, BoA** _

_**I’ve let my emotions go, fuck being a sober hoe** _   
_**This is the mantra, this is my life** _   
_**You’re playing with now ’til the end of the night** _   
_**Surrounded by fire, the passion ignites** _   
_**A hit of that Heaven and Hell, a hell of a high** _

_**\- Addict, Silva Hound (Hazbin Hotel)** _

* * *

Kyle's superpower was being a chameleon.

At any time, in any place, whenever the situation called for it, he could be whoever he wanted (or needed) to be.

Like now for instance; at that moment he was a vixen as he swung around the slick black pole. The lights of the club were in his eyes and he had body glitter (golden) on his face; scattered on his naked shoulders and chest. He was a lick of sensual flame as he moved through shadow and strobe light; power incarnate.

Unreachable.

A far cry from who he'd been that morning; just a boy waking up with a wicked hangover and smears of mascara under his eyes. God, who the fuck was that mess he'd seen in the mirror after staggering into the bathroom?

Now he was strong as he climbed the pole, gripping it with thin thighs that had ripped fishnets crawling up them, and the music was a tangible force thumping in his veins. He'd already slipped off his opera gloves and bustier; left them on the glittery mess of a stage.

When he tipped backward he saw the sleepy gazes of the Tuesday mid-morning crowd, and some of his high wore off when he remembered that he was being punished for mouthing off; relegated to one of the crappiest shifts the Peppermint Hippo had to offer.

Whatever, Kyle would just get through his set and make the most of it, chameleon that he was; flying high on Adderall and the illusion that, for that moment, he was completely, utterly untouchable. He made them want to watch, to covet, but that was all they were allowed to do - at least for the moment.

\----

"You were lovely this morning, Kyle. As always."

Kyle had poured himself across a velvet chaise before pulling out a Virginia Slim, legs swinging. He was still in his fishnets but he'd tugged on some cut-offs and an old band T that fell over his shoulder.

He also wasn't really interested in conversation, not with Damien, at any rate. He was still pouting about being punished.

"Hmm, I didn't realize you were watching," he said, holding up his cigarette. "You gotta light?"

"Of course, darling." Coming over, Damien was sleek as a feline in his black pinstripe suit; crimson tie and red rose on the lapel. He lit Kyle's smoke with a flick of his zippo, a present the hoes had purchased for him on his last birthday. It had been Kyle's idea to have it engraved with 'World's Best Pimp'.

He'd also wanted to have 'Fuck you, pay me' engraved on the bottom but the others had talked him out of it; telling him that he was still raw from Damien breaking it off with him and he'd regret it later.

Fuck that, Kyle tried to never regret anything.

"Naturally, I usually try to be present for your performances," Damien said, slipping the zippo into his pocket and going to sit behind his large desk. He smoothed his hair back, the black richness of it mellowed by the low-lit office. "The turnout left something to be desired, though. Don't you think?"

Turning over, Kyle looked at the ceiling while stretching out a leg, pointing a smudged, red Converse heavenward. Damien was fucking with him in his oh so subtle way, the bastard.

"It's a fucking Tuesday before noon. Who the hell is gonna be coming in here at this time of day, huh? Transients and serial killers? Angry loners? Not that I really care who's watching but it isn't like any of them have got any real money to spend. You knew that when you fucking scheduled me."

"I did, you're right," Damien replied easily. "I was illustrating a point, Kyle. You show disrespect and then expect rewards, which we both know is flawed logic."

"You're flawed logic," Kyle grumbled, taking a pull on his cigarette before slowly letting the smoke drift from the corner of his mouth. "I'm the best fucking dancer in your stable. I have to make you the most cash, turn the most tricks, and be a sweet talker, too? That's some bullshit, daddy. All I did was call you a two pump chump and you wanna act like it's a fucking federal offense."

Rolling on his side, Kyle winked. "You know I was just playing, anyway. You used to rock my world for hours, remember?" When," he snorted, "you were in the mood, of course."

"Playing or not, a simple backhand doesn't work for you," Damien said, smiling now; white teeth sharp like he could actively recall the times he'd fucked Kyle screaming - but that had been at the beginning. "You like those too much, so I had to go after something that motivates you."

"Yeah, cock and money," Kyle sighed. "And you already took your cock off the table ages ago, didn't you?"

"Oh, not necessarily. We can negotiate."

"Puh, don't do me any favors." Kyle took another drag, watching Damien watch him, and he could practically feel the slap he'd given him just the day before; right across the face, here in this office.

Yeah, he'd liked it. He liked force as long as Damien could control himself, but that was walking a fine line. He sighed, turning onto his back again.

"Look, fine, I'm sorry, okay? I'll watch my mouth, I'll be nice, just don't give me these bullshit shifts anymore. I got bills to pay and Baby needs his prescriptions. Tuesday morning dollars aren't going to cover it."

"How's Baby doing, anyway?"

Kyle knocked some ash into a wine glass and shrugged, some of his bravado collapsing on itself. "He's okay. Last john he had fucked him up pretty badly. I'm taking care of him, though."

"Then you could stand to make a little extra this week, couldn't you?"

Kyle's ears perked up but he didn't turn his head. Damien didn't need to see his interest, his hunger - that would only inspire him to play one of his games, and Kyle just didn't have the energy for it.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I've had a client request a dancer for a party. A small affair, it looks like. You'd give them something pretty to look at."

"Lap dances and the like?" Now he did glance over; it'd been a while since Damien had offered him something like this. Usually he was needed at the club or down on Colfax Point; walking the blocks with a come hither smile. "And that's it, right? Or do they want, you know, the deluxe package?"

Damien steepled his fingers together, smiling. "Come over here, please."

Kyle could feel the heat in his words and perversely enough, it was this subtle interest that always made him shiver in the nice way; the small smiles, the downward tilt of Damien's face when he looked at him in just this way -

Inviting him closer. He usually didn't do that.

Kyle obeyed, his smoke dangling from his mouth as he approached, smooth gait, rolling hips; he liked to walk like he was still on the pole; sensual, a wanton sense of grace.

Easy like wine being poured.

"Right here," Damien all but purred, clearing a space on his desk so Kyle could sit, legs splayed and shoes balanced on the arms of the big, impressive chair. He didn't touch, merely watched, eyes trailing over Kyle's body, the hot space between his thighs. His smile widened, dark eyes almost seeming to absorb light instead of reflecting it.

"You want this gig, don't you?"

"You know I do, daddy. I deserve it." Kyle sucked the cigarette down to the filter and plopped the butt in a solid gold ashtray. "I mean, I know I was a joke when I first started dancing - absolutely no rhythm, yada, yada - but when my daddy showed me that dancing is very similar to fucking, well..."

Damien laughed, lifting his hands to spread them over Kyle's thighs, one finger tangling in the fishnets. "You have a bruise on your face, darling. You know that?"

Kyle touched it, that bloom of an ache under the tips of his fingers. "Yeah, you really gave me a mouse, you rat."

"In my line of work, one whore stepping out of place and not being put back is akin to inviting a mutiny. The others look up to you, love. You know that." Reaching, Damien settled a large hand on Kyle's cheek, covering the bruise he'd left - with that same hand, just with the other side. "They watch and listen, and when my little red fox wants to bite they start getting ideas."

"I said I was sorry, daddy," Kyle almost moaned, because another large hand was sliding itself under the hem of his all too short cut-offs. "Do I get to show you how sorry I am, or are words enough to calm you down?"

"I'm never calm with you." Taking his hand away, Damien clenched his fingers on Kyle's hips, pulling him close. "Here's part two of your punishment; I won't fuck you, however, I'll let you have the gig."

It was on Kyle's tongue to tell Damien to fuck the gig, that he'd take his chances being spilled across the desk with his arms held behind his back (the way they both enjoyed it when they were together), but he thought of Baby and his own bills and he choked down the wetness in his mouth.

"That's real nice of you, daddy. I wanted to thank you right here but I guess that's a 'maybe next time' situation, huh?"

Damien was kneading his fingers into Kyle's skin as he listened, finally pulling him down and onto his lap where Kyle could feel his big cock under his tailored slacks. "Let's just see how you do with these new clients, okay? Like I said, I'm always open to negotiation, darling."

\----

Kyle loved the little apartment he shared with Baby probably a little too much. It was a glorified shithole with loud pipes and a heater that liked to crap out during the coldest parts of a Colorado winter, but it was theirs. When Kyle walked into the dim foyer and tossed down his bag and keys, he knew he could shut the door and lock it - the world had to ask to be let in for the most part.

Okay, maybe not Damien, but it made sense that he had a key to their place. After all, he'd helped them get it. Well, he'd helped Kyle once upon a time, when he was down and out and needed a hand, but he was cool when Baby came along.

Everyone wanted to take care of Baby, Kyle especially. He was easy to love and sweet, but so vulnerable. He'd been the same way in school when the bullies would dog him for crying; always over little things, like dropping his ice cream in the cafeteria or bombing a spelling test; coming in with poorly buttoned messy shirts and uncombed hair.

He'd gone by Tweek back then, though. They'd all gone by different names back in the day.

Baby was snoozing fitfully on the worn sofa when Kyle came in, coming to and blinking when a kiss was pressed to his flushed, skinny cheek. He moaned quietly, shaggy blonde hair in disarray; tangled up in the arms of a huge teddy bear that a john had given him. He'd said his kid had outgrown it but Baby didn't want to see it thrown away.

He was very sensitive to anything that might be tossed out with the garbage.

"I slept all day," he said, sitting up and rubbing his eye, wincing at the bruise lingering there. He'd gotten shiners before of course, they all had, but this sadist had been next-level rough. Baby had managed to stagger home but he'd been bleeding and barely coherent, latching onto Kyle through a bath and a healthy amount of cuddles before finally falling asleep.

"You needed it," Kyle replied, brushing the hair from Baby's face, charmed and a little saddened by his Hello Kitty nightie. It all just seemed so tragic in a pathetic way, all the way down to Baby's anklet around one willowy leg. "You haven't eaten, have you?"

"Nah. Didn't feel like it."

Kyle gave him the sternest look he could muster, just a slight frown because even vague disapproval could make his friend crumple. "Well, I'm making you chicken and stars and you're going to eat it before I leave."

One would've thought that Kyle had said the world was on course to be destroyed with the way Baby looked at him; wide green eyes (a peculiar color mixed with gold, very bright; not cloverish like Kyle's) and a trembling mouth.

"You're going out? Can't I come? I don't like being here at night without you, K."

"I'm not going out just for kicks, it's work," Kyle replied, padding into the kitchen to retrieve a can from the pantry. Baby was very particular about his food on the best day, usually subsisting on twizzlers, coffee, pocky, and lately, for whatever reason, Campbell's chicken and stars.

"Oh, Mr Thorne's making you walk Colfax?" Baby asked, limping in and leaning a bony, narrow hip against the counter. "Is he still punishing you?"

"Yeah, with blue balls, but I've actually got a gig tonight. A party." Kyle dumped the soup into a bowl, added water, and pushed it into the microwave. "Some rich stiffs, you know the type. Looking for a little dance, some slap and tickle, maybe a blowie. I think it sounds like fun."

"You think it's all fun," Baby pouted, removing a strawberry barrette from his hair only to put it back, but more securely. "I like when they wanna hold you for a little bit but you like it all."

"Not necessarily," Kyle replied, pulling out the soup to stir it. "I don't like being fisted. Like, where's the appeal? So you wanna hurt me, I guess? Why not just use a belt? I can take it. Hey, you took your lithium, right? And your Buspar?"

Baby nodded, eyes brightening like jewels as he watched. At moments like this, when he was all eyes and tufts of fluff on his head, Kyle thought he looked like a little owl. This in turn made him feel protective and tender, so he went to the other and hugged him close, just the way Baby liked, before pulling away to softly kiss a pink, soft mouth.

Baby was eager, opening and letting the kiss become playful, wet tongue sliding over Kyle's. It reminded him of their teenage sleepovers when Baby's (Tweek's) ghastly parents would be out late at their cafe, and it'd just be the two of them in a twin bed with rumpled sheets.

"I'll miss you tonight," he murmured when they came up for air. "Maybe Kenny'll come over and keep me company."

"I think he'd like that," Kyle replied, holding up the soup bowl with a cheeky flourish. "You two could finish that puzzle you started."

"K, it's like a million pieces - I'll be in a retirement center by the time we're even close to finishing." Reluctantly, he sat and ate, socked feet curled beneath him on the couch. He held the bowl like a squirrel cradling a nut, and Kyle felt another surge of reassurance that taking this party tonight had been the right idea.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Kyle said softly, dropping a kiss on Baby's fluffy, precious head. "You eat and rest. Can I get another Addy from you? My ass is dragging."

Baby waved a hand. "Take 'em all, you know I hate the way they make me feel. Like I'm a zombie walking in mud."

"They make me fly," Kyle said, fishing one of the pills from a bottle that stood in a row with several others; situated right on the kitchen counter so Baby would be more inclined to remember them. "I do my best work on 'em."

"Well, good luck. I love you."

"Love you." Slipping into the bathroom, Kyle switched on the light and studied his reflection, cocking his head. Time for the chameleon to come out again, he supposed; help him figure out just who he was going to become over the course of the evening ahead.

\-----

It wasn't as if Kyle had woken up one morning and decided, just on a whim, that he wanted to strip or fuck for cash for a living; he hadn't gone to career day at school and said, "Oh, no, thank you. I'd much rather have a train run on me instead of getting my doctorate."

No, it hadn't been like that at all. If anything, he'd fallen into his current profession by accident, having been at the club for shits and giggles one night and the MC, lo and behold, had called to him and asked him why he wasn't on stage.

Kyle had just brushed this off, content to drink his rum and Coke and take another hit of whatever his friend was pushing on him, when the crowd had looked at him and applauded -

They'd had a look in their eyes he'd never seen before, lustful and oddly appreciative, and Kyle had all but glowed under it; flutters growing in his stomach that had thrilled and taken him off-guard.

He'd felt like he was actually being _seen_ , but not as himself, no, as someone better - a person he could admire, whoever that happened to be.

He'd been working at a call center at the time, hating life and down on himself, so when Damien had approached him with a proposition, had put the stars in Kyle's eyes (not to mention sitting Kyle on his lap, making him tremble just by touching him), he'd promptly chucked his headset and given himself to the lights, the attention -

He'd allowed himself to be consumed, and he had no intention of apologizing for it. He liked fucking, he enjoyed being wanted, and he absolutely loved pleasing people in any way they could dream of...

And he'd quickly learned that his clients had wild imaginations. This suited his chameleon persona to a goddamn T.

Damien had told him that tonight's affair would be casual, despite the upscale nature of the clientele. Kyle had been instructed to wear something comfortable and to skip any heavy makeup, so that's what he did. After kissing Baby goodbye, he'd headed over to a relatively swanky apartment building and rung the bell for 309, tapping a sneakered foot as he waited.

The door swung open to reveal a quiet room, only the delicate strains of classical music heard far away; more of a hint than anything else. A tall dark haired man stood before him in an impeccable gray suit with a dark blue skinny tie; serious but handsome with high cheekbones and striking gray eyes.

Kyle didn't like to admit it but he was flustered, something that almost never happened. First of all, the man seemed to be all alone, and secondly -

"Dude, you're fucking hot," Kyle said, dazed from Adderall and very dry-mouthed; body tired but mind on fire. "Like, no lie."

The man frowned deeply, almost in a severe manner, and Kyle fully expected to be sent away, but he stepped back instead to allow him entrance.

"Please, come in," he said in a deep yet nasally voice. "You're right on time; Kyle Broflovski, is it?"

"The one and only," Kyle replied, stepping into an apartment that could be considered a minimalist's wet dream, right down to the fact that it was devoid of other people. "Um, not to pry or whatever, but I thought this was a party."

"My plans changed," the man said, closing the door and turning to peer at him, and Kyle suddenly felt more undressed than he had while dancing that morning.

Odd, considering he was wearing way more right now; cut-offs, lacey white thigh highs, and an airy green camisole that sometimes caught on his silver nipple rings. He nearly squirmed, shifting his messenger bag in front of himself.

"Oh, well, that's cool. I won't give you shit for -"

"I'm going to have to ask you to not do that," the man broke in, that stern look coming back and staying this time.

Kyle blinked. "Do what?"

"Curse. If this is going to work, I need you to show some manners. Please."

He could've laughed but hey, if this guy wanted Emily Post, Kyle could oblige. "Anything you say, Mr. Tucker. Craig Tucker. Right?"

"You may call me Mr Tucker for now, until I've had a chance to try you out." Coming over, Mr Tucker held out a hand. "May I take your bag?"

"Are you gonna give it back?" Kyle asked, giggling when the man seemed off-balance. "No, I'm just fucking -" He stopped himself. "I'm just kidding with you, sir. Yes, you may take it. Thank you."

Mr Tucker did, going to hang it up which touched Kyle's heart a little. Most clients would've thrown the thing across the room by now in order to get to him. It was nice. Weird, but nice.

Looking around, he nodded, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his shorts. The living room was possessed of clean lines and charcoal colored couches; dark tables flanked their sides with crystal lamps, and the fireplace was sterile looking marble.

"A little utilitarian but I can dig it," he commented, walking over to look out the large windows, which he had to admit he admired. They opened up over the city, showcasing the stars just coming out; the faint glow of faraway signs and headlights. "I can tell you have money but you're not trying to flaunt it. Nice."

"Yes, well," the man replied, coming to stand close but not too close. He glanced at the view like it was a static inevitability, not something alive and created to marvel. "All that aside, will you be undressing in here or would you like to use the washroom?"

Kyle managed to turn from the view, his stomach sinking a little. Not from fear, but from an unexpected disappointment. Why had he thought, even for a moment, that things would be different this evening?

He could've used a little change of pace but if the dude wanted to get his rocks off right away, Kyle wouldn't judge.

"I'll strip for you right here," he said, shrugging. "In front of those windows, even. It's whatever you want."

Mr Tucker chewed his lip, a faint glow in his irises that Kyle had seen before but in those instances, the John was just about to slip inside him, cock out and Kyle prepped; wet and desperate. He had to figure it was anticipation or something very close to it.

"I just want to see you," he murmured. "I figured we'd have dinner, talk... get to know each other, but the idea of you bare in front of me while I'm still dressed..." He rubbed a hand over his mouth. "We could act like we didn't even notice, you know?"

Well, this was a new idea, and original, too. Out there, but Kyle was intrigued. "So, no fucking? Is that what you're telling me?"

The man _was_ severe this time, eyes narrowed and jaw tightening. A shiver moved up Kyle's back, vertebrae by vertebrae; delicious and anticipatory. "I'm sorry. We aren't going to have sex? Is that better?"

Buttoning his suit jacket, the man seemed to brush off his question with ease. "Leave the stockings on, please. I think I should like to see you in them when everything else has been removed." Moving away, he brushed against Kyle lightly, and it was like sparks erupting in his skin. "I'll pour the wine. Do you prefer red or white?"

"I'll take whatever you give me, sir," Kyle almost breathed, suddenly wonderfully curious about this strange man, his own persona for the night coming together as easily as a mask covering a face. Turning, his voice was soft when he asked. "May I call you sir?"

Mr Tucker looked up from the wine bottle he was opening, not smiling but the light was growing in his eyes, becoming fire. He nodded. "Yes, I actually think I would like that very much."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: smut? 
> 
> I had way too much fun writing this, you guys. Kyle's saucy, Craig's particular, Tweek's a cutie (I hope?), and I love exploring stuff that I don't get to write about otherwise. Some might think that Kyle and Tweek's friendship is odd but fuck it, I'm here for affectionate besties 🤣 there isn't enough Kyle/Tweek friendship fics and I think that's a damn shame. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys, and thank you for the comments!! ❤❤

_**At first, it was just a cautious date** _   
_**Now my heart’s fluttering, time is ticking** _   
_**Next, one step, the narrowed distance** _   
_**Getting to know each other, common things** _

_**The awkwardness melts away slowly** _   
_**Our laughter blooms** _   
_**At some point, I wanted you** _   
_**My heart already moved to you** _

_**\- BoA, Double Jack** _

* * *

Mr Tucker was a watcher, that was for sure.

Not that Kyle was unaccustomed to being watched, clearly. He was a stripper for Christ's sake; being observed was the cornerstone of his vocation, the whole point, but Mr Tucker...

It was the intensity of his vigilance that took some getting used to for Kyle. Every move he made, no matter how minute, was followed by sharp gray eyes. They never wavered, even as he poured two glasses of red wine -

"A cabernet," he said, bringing the glass over and setting it on a coaster - a _coaster_! Oh, he was absolutely adorable.

Mr Tucker sat on a chair adjacent to the couch where Kyle had settled himself, watching like a veritable hawk as Kyle unlaced one white sneaker and then the other, taking care to move slowly as he slid them off; setting them aside.

Sighing, he lifted his legs and tapped his feet together before laughing at Mr Tucker's expression of confused interest.

"Been on my feet all day," Kyle explained. "It feels good to kick off my shoes, you know?"

"Oh, yes, of course," the man replied, going back to observing as Kyle lifted his glass and drank, licking a wayward droplet of wine from his lip.

"Yummy, very dry," Kyle said, waving his hand over the glass; pretending to consider the scent. "This wine's got a heady bouquet, good legs. Is that oak I taste?"

Mr Tucker nodded, taking a sip himself before swirling the wine gently. "Yes, and hints of peach as well. You know -"

He stopped, frowning to see Kyle stifling giggles behind his hand.

"Dude, I'm just jacking with you; I don't know the first thing about wine. It could've come out of a box and I wouldn't know the difference." Kyle set the glass down - on his coaster - and grinned.

"I see," Mr Tucker replied, pausing before adding, "are you waiting to undress, or...?"

"Oh, right, right. I got caught up in all this wine talk and just, whew -" Kyle tapped his temple, "lost my head. Sorry."

Standing, Kyle came around the coffee table, stockinged feet sinking into plush carpet. His client watched, leaning back and crossing his legs, wine glass balanced on his knee.

"Stockings stay on, huh?" Kyle asked, knowing perfectly well what the answer was, but it was strange stripping down like this. The only music was soft classical - violin and piano, it sounded like - and Mr Tucker hadn't asked him to put on a show, had only requested that he undress.

And oy, the way he _watched_. Kyle had done private shows before but this was new - the quiet, the lack of obvious lust being directed at him, save for the intense light in Mr Tucker's eyes.

"Yes," Mr Tucker said simply. Then he became silent and waited.

Kyle held his breath while unbuttoning his cut-offs, sliding the zipper down slowly, and Mr Tucker's eyes were almost burning, just from this.

 _Damn, he must be really hard up for it_ , he thought, beginning the aching, gradual process of easing the shorts over his hips - the part of his anatomy that many johns said was his most appealing.

He had to wonder if Mr Tucker agreed, but he wasn't sure how to ask. Usually clients volunteered their opinions quite easily, on their own, but not this one.

Drawing the shorts down his legs, Kyle stepped out of them and kicked them aside, standing before Mr Tucker in ruffled panties and his camisole; thigh highs beginning to slip down his legs just a little. He bit his lip and rubbed his arm, uneasy. Looking up, Mr Tucker was swirling his wine in a way that could almost be considered aggressive.

"You stopped," he said unnecessarily. "Why?"

A foot came up to rub Kyle's opposite calf, lip still being chewed. "You actually like this?"

Mr Tucker blinked slowly, uncrossing his legs just to recross them in the opposite direction. "I wouldn't watch if I wasn't enjoying myself. Now, please continue."

The way he said it, as if it were a foregone conclusion, deep voice quietly commanding without becoming harsh -

Another shiver traveled up Kyle's back, his cock starting to harden as he nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Mr Tucker swirled his wine, keeping an inscrutable expression, but that light in his eyes grew even stronger. It was becoming very clear that this man was not going to pelt him with lewd comments, make obscene gestures, or get himself off while Kyle stripped.

He was simply going to watch and assess, enjoy, almost like he was attending a play, or studying a work of art.

At least, that's how Kyle wanted to interpret it.

Some of his shyness wore off at this realization, so when he slowly lifted his camisole he did it with more cheek, a slight attitude working its way into movements that mirrored his dancing; sinuous, designed to entice. The material was peeled away, revealing a flat belly, nipples glinting with little silver rings -

He pulled it off, head tilted when he dropped the garment on the floor; red curls fell into his eyes that he shook away. He met Mr Tucker's eyes and saw him drink his wine; Kyle licked his lips, imagining that wine-flavored tongue running up the inside of one milky thigh.

He was becoming harder, the slit of his cock damp when he slid his fingers inside of his panties. A moan filtered from his mouth, low, much more subdued than he'd typically sound -

Mr Tucker shifted, uncrossing his legs, keeping them apart, feet set to the floor. Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his thighs. Kyle winked, reaching up a hand to tug gently on a nipple ring, sliding it through his fingers.

"Everyone asks if it hurt when I got 'em," he said in a breathy voice, still toying with the ring; not rough, just enough to send a shock through the hard skin. "They seem disappointed when I tell 'em I didn't feel a thing*." He laughed, moving his hands over his waist, down to the low-slung band of his panties. He began to pull, then paused.

"I'm allowed to talk, right? Or would you prefer -"

"I like listening to you," Mr Tucker murmured. "So long as your language is clean. Polite."

"Believe me, my ma raised me to have manners," Kyle said, smiling while slipping the panties down, nice and slow, careful, because this was usually the most satisfying part for him. He wasn't sure if the same could be said for his client, mercurial as his tastes seemed to be, but Kyle couldn't help holding his breath as the panties were drawn down.

He stopped right before his cock was about to be revealed, material lingering low on his pubis, and the sweet anticipation of it, that alone -

Oh, he was very hard now. He refrained from asking if Mr Tucker was experiencing the same state of affairs; concerned that he wouldn't think it was polite. He wouldn't have really cared with other johns, but this one -

Well, he was interesting, that much was obvious.

Mr Tucker was still now as he watched, not swirling the wine, not drinking, and a glorious tension was rising in the room, in Kyle. It built, aching, until he lowered his panties down, and the needy organ between his legs, wet at the tip, was being observed - ardently, by serious gray eyes that fairly burned.

The panties, a very soft, almost new pair Kyle had bought from a sleazy boutique in downtown South Park, dropped over slim thighs, past weak knees, over supple calves, to pool on the floor, stark against the white carpet. Kyle touched himself just a little as he stepped out of them, pushing them aside with his foot.

He slid a thumb over his slit, felt the dampness there, and now a full-body shiver was coursing through him. It was the way those eyes seemed to devour him, consume; it was electric, like he was standing under a spotlight and the whole world was looking, admiring -

But it was just this one quiet man.

"Turn," Mr Tucker murmured, setting his glass on the side table. "Please."

Almost in a haze, Kyle did so, fluidly but not too showy, turning a slow circle until they were eye to eye again. The client nodded, eyes drifting to glance again at Kyle's cock, or so he assumed -

"Your stockings," he said, standing. He smoothed the front of his suit jacket.

Looking down, Kyle saw that the filmy stockings were falling down his legs, slightly bunched. Taking him off-guard, Mr Tucker knelt before him on one knee, looking up. "May I?" He asked gesturing to the rumpled lace.

Kyle could only nod, mesmerized, dizzy almost when gentle, elegant fingers took hold of a stocking and pulled it slowly into place, little by little, moving up his leg to secure the tight band around his mid-thigh. He did the same with the other, working, it seemed, to make them as even as possible. Mr Tucker was focused, meticulous, not touching Kyle more than was necessary to achieve his aim, but the little he touched, fingertips grazing the skin just above the stockings....

Kyle's cock twitched; Mr Tucker, at waist level, did not mention if he noticed or not, fully intent on putting Kyle to rights while unknowingly taking him apart.

"There," he said, sitting back on his heels; admiring his efforts, it would seem. He paused, eyes sliding to meet Kyle's. "Maybe bows on the front next time. Blue satin?"

 _Next time._ There was going to be a next time? Why did that sound so wonderful? Kyle fumbled to speak, loopy and warm like a cat stretched out in a patch of sunlight.

"I, uh, don't have anything like that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry."

Mr Tucker stood and moved back. "I'll look into it." He took up his glass again, drinking, watching Kyle over the rim. Kyle studied his mouth, sensuous; it wasn't overly full, that mouth, but the way Mr Tucker spoke to him with calm authority, clipped words rolling off that polite tongue....

Christ alive, what was even happening right now?

"Dinner," Mr Tucker announced, clearly not one for preamble based on his way of speaking thus far. Kyle liked that, he decided; straight, to the point. A lot of clients were that way with their actions, not so much their words, but this man was flipping the script. "Are you hungry?"

Distracted, Kyle had to give the question some thought. At the moment, food was truly the least of his concerns, standing there with a hard cock and warm skin that needed so badly to be touched. He shook his head, clearing it.

"Yes, a little." Coyly, he slipped a curl behind his ear. "Did you cook, or do you have a personal chef...?"

Mr Tucker's mouth twitched. "I enjoy cooking so I prepared something for us. Bolognese. Asparagus. Lemon tart for dessert. Does that suit you?"

Kyle gave him a wry look before stretching long, wanting to call Mr Tucker's focus back to his nakedness - if it had managed to stray, of course.

"Man, if I wasn't eating here I'd be having Taco Bell or something. Or maybe Baby would cook. He's been known to do that sometimes. He's wild about baking." He blinked, spreading his hands. "Sir, I mean."

The client's lips twitched again, a fraction more pronounced, and while that stern look had been developing again, it faded. Mr Tucker gestured, "Very well. Shall we?"

"We shall." Kyle moved past him, swaying his hips a little, feeling Mr Tucker's presence - heated - at his back. They walked down a corridor that was lined with paintings of seascapes, a peculiar one of a small ship trying to break through ice drawing his focus, before he was led into a warmly-lit kitchen.

It was utilitarian as well in its design; stainless steel appliances, dark cabinets. The backsplash behind the sink was dark blue tile; the island was blue tile as well. It smelled cozy, though, of spices and pleasant things that had been prepared; heating to permeate the air.

They didn't linger, however, and Kyle felt a hand pressed very, very softly to the small of his back. It was taken away quickly.

"Through here," the client said close to his ear, breath warm on his skin. Kyle nearly sighed.

The dining room was focused, of course, around the table, a structure of rich, dark wood; glistening plates and cutlery all laid out, and candles burning in silver holders. They cast shadows on the warm blue walls, flickering softly.

"You didn't have to do all this," Kyle said, intimidated, but it was just so sweet, so unbearably sweet. One time a john had taken him to Denny's after fucking him raw in the backseat of an old Chevrolet, had let him order a strawberry milkshake and cheese fries, and at the time Kyle had been exceedingly grateful, but this....

"Jesus," he whispered when Mr Tucker pulled out a chair for him, gesturing to it. Walking through the guttering light of the candles, Kyle went to him and sat, hands resting on his bare thighs as his chair was nudged forward.

 _Blue satin bows_ , he thought dreamily. _If that's what he wants, I think I can make it happen._

The first course (there were courses!) was a small salad dressed with oil and vinegar; curly bits of lettuce, romaine, cherry tomatoes. Kyle ate as carefully as possible, appetite compromised by Adderall, but it was just so nice, all the effort Mr Tucker had gone to. It made absolutely no sense.

Mr Tucker ate as methodically as he did everything else, every bite careful and lacking unnecessary effort; precise. His movements weren't mechanical, though; quite the contrary, they were smooth, almost graceful. Kyle found himself watching him, eyes down but watching in his peripheral.

There was more red wine that Kyle sipped, slowly becoming tipsy despite the stimulant in his blood. It was disorienting, all of it. Lovely and dreamlike. Mr Tucker was quiet while he ate, but it was comfortable, and Kyle could tell he enjoyed eating, lingering over it.

"Ready?" Mr Tucker asked when his plate was clear and Kyle's was partially finished.

Kyle nodded, wanting to tell him he didn't need to wait on him like this, but he got the impression this was all a part of Mr Tucker's fantasy; doting, attending.

Soon there was a steaming plate of pasta before him; thick noodles, a red sauce with beef. On a side plate was fragrant asparagus. Kyle readjusted the cloth napkin across his lap, his cock still partially hard, and took up his fork.

Mr Tucker tucked in, twirling pasta against his spoon, deft and assured. He'd refreshed Kyle's wine, had offered him water with lemon -

Kyle's head was spinning, and the pasta, _dear Lord_.

"Oh, this is delicious," he sighed, on the cusp of melting away.

This statement finally, finally, elicited a smile from Mr Tucker. It was small, but it was there, and Kyle melted a little more.

"Thank you. Cooking is one of the ways I relax, and knowing someone's enjoying something I made is always a pleasure." He wiped his mouth. "May I ask you a question?"

Kyle swallowed a piece of asparagus before nodding, rubbing his hand over his mouth; flushing when Mr Tucker raised an eyebrow. "You can ask me anything, sir. My whole life's an open book."

"I should hope there are some things you keep only to yourself." Mr Tucker raised his other brow.

"Um, not to be impolite, but do I really seem like the type to keep secrets?" Kyle asked, looking down at his unclothed state.

A twitch of the lips. Mr Tucker cleared his throat. "Fair question. Anyway, I was curious; who's Baby?"

"Oh, he's my bestie," Kyle said, almost gushing, because he loved talking about Baby. "His real name's Tweek, but he prefers his stage name... he's got a soft look to him, you know? He's like a kitten or whatever, something you wanna pick up and hold, look after... that's where that comes from."

Mr Tucker nodded slowly. "Does he work with you?"

"You make it sound like we're in the typing pool at a conglomerate," Kyle snickered, drinking more wine, "but, yeah, he strips at the Hippo, too. He's a favorite."

"Does he service clients the way you do?"

Kyle blinked. "You mean turn tricks? Yeah. He doesn't like that as much, though. Too much contact. This one John last week was really rough with him... sent him home crying, the whole nine, so I had to, you know, put him back together."

Mr Tucker's eyes dimmed a little at this. "You live together?"

Kyle nodded. "Crappy apartment on the east side. It's small but it's home. We like it well enough."

"And he likes to bake?"

"Yeah, when he's feeling it, Baby makes the best cupcakes in the world, and he always makes me a cake on my birthday...funfetti with strawberry icing." Looking down, Kyle worried his napkin. "I love that kid. I'd do anything for him."

Mr Tucker was quiet then, and the candles fluttered when the air conditioning kicked on. Kyle took a bite of pasta, knowing Baby would like it, too.

"When is your birthday?" Mr Tucker finally asked, and Kyle wanted to laugh, he really did, but he didn't have the heart.

"May 26th. Why, you gonna throw me a party, Mr Tucker?" he made his voice vaguely teasing, charmed once again by this enigmatic gentleman.

Because that's what he was, right? A john who just happened to be a gentleman? He supposed the two weren't necessarily mutually exclusive.

Looking over, Mr Tucker's face softened, eyes muted by candlelight, and Kyle kind of hoped he'd lean across the table and kiss his smart, teasing mouth. Instead, the stoic client reached to dab at his chin with his napkin.

"You had a little sauce," he murmured.

"You don't say," Kyle sighed, his cock once again waking up, and it was all he could do not to stroke himself right there.

_Just from him wiping my mouth. Christ, I'm losing it. I'm really losing it._

The lemon tart was amazing; silk on Kyle's tongue, and he ate it slowly, taking small sips of coffee -

"Did you want seconds?" Mr Tucker asked, having finished his piece; sitting back and observing while Kyle licked luscious lemon curd from his mouth.

"I don't want to seem greedy," he said, scraping a fork across his plate.

"I offered," the man said simply, reaching to take Kyle's plate, frowning when Kyle dared to place a hand on his wrist.

"Let me come," he said, antsy to stay close in whatever way that involved; stifling a giggle at the double entendre he'd let slip. "Please, sir?"

An actual smile this time that reached the man's eyes, and Kyle's heart fluttered. "If you insist."

In the pristine kitchen, Kyle leaned over the counter while Mr Tucker sliced him another wedge of the tart, pushing it over. Kyle cut a piece and slid it into his mouth, making sure to thoroughly lick the fork clean.

"You have a gift," he said, aware that he was pushing his ass out, arching his back, posturing while draped on the counter. He felt alive, even though he'd barely been touched, but it was as if he was being caressed in an intangible way, cared for and looked after.

"Do you think your friend would like some? I can pack up some of what's left for you to take home."

"Baby would love that," Kyle replied, straightening to move away so Mr Tucker could see how he was responding to his generosity. "Hell, I'd love it too."

Mr Tucker, who'd been in the process of pulling out Tupperware containers paused to give him a look. Kyle sighed, idly pulling on a curl, his nipple ring. That look was chastising and _delicious_.

Maybe he could get Mr Tucker to spank him eventually? He seemed like the type, a disciplinarian, and hadn't Damien often told Kyle that he was exceptionally naughty?

Of course, Damien liked to keep him in line by using more severe methods, but that was neither here nor there.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll watch my mouth."

"Please see that you do," Mr Tucker replied, going about packing up some leftovers; a generous portion of pasta and lemon tart. He slipped the containers into a plastic bag.

"You must tell me if Baby liked it," he said, almost sounding amused.

"Next time?" Kyle breathed, hoping that that notion was still on the table.

Mr Tucker smiled, showing white teeth. "Next time."

\-----

Kyle tried to put his foot down after Mr Tucker offered him a substantial tip when it was decided that their evening together was coming to an end.

He was dressing (reluctantly), once again while Mr Tucker devoured him with his eyes, back in the living room with the large windows at his back. As he was pulling up his panties (secretly wishing, after all was said and done, that his client had simply torn them off of him in a fit of aggressive passion), Mr Tucker had pulled out his wallet, a fancy affair of glistening black leather, and started removing twenties, one by one.

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked, eyes growing wider with each bill slipping into Mr Tucker's fingers.

"Preparing your tip," he replied easily, pulling out another bill. "I'd say that you earned it. Wouldn't you?"

"To be honest, no," Kyle said, moving closer; only in stockings and panties; feeling all the more naked in such scant covering - which was probably the point of keeping his stockings on in the first place, now that he gave it some thought. "We didn't even do anything to each other. I mean, okay, yes, you definitely got me going, but I don't know if you were even satisfied, but you had to be, right, otherwise-"

"Take a breath," Mr Tucker said gently. "Please. Now I want you to listen to me."

Kyle obeyed, closing his mouth. He put his hands behind his back and waited, feeling almost like a child about to be lectured by an indulgent father.

Mr Tucker closed his wallet and put it back in his pocket, keeping the money in his hand. "To put it bluntly, I'm more than satisfied with my experience tonight, Kyle. Believe me, I've tried this before and was... less than impressed, but this evening, you... well." He stood, coming to him and standing close, as close as he'd been when fixing Kyle's stockings.

Kyle tipped his head back to look at him, having to remind himself to breathe. Mr Tucker was serious but there was a quality in his eyes, a turbulence, that made Kyle feel like he was considering the edge of a precipice.

This feeling only intensified when Mr Tucker cupped his cheek with his hand, soft; a thumb moving gently over Kyle's bottom lip.

"I've never wanted to see someone a second time. It was never even a passing consideration, but I want that with you. I almost feel desperate for it."

Kyle made a little sound then, a mix of a moan and sigh, leaning into the touch before it was taken away. He had to blink to right himself, having almost slipped over that edge in his mind, teetering on it.

"As such," Mr Tucker added, holding up the money, "if I want to show you my gratitude for services rendered, I will. Is that understood?"

"But sir, I'm not allowed to accept tips, all of my money is handled by Damien." Kyle looked down. "He takes care of that sort of thing, you know? I'm just supposed to dance and... be pretty. I'm supposed to stay sweet."

"And you have. If it's a matter of logistics, I'll handle Damien for you. If he's a worthwhile businessman -"

Kyle couldn't hold back his laughter then. If Damien was a businessman then Kyle was a nun. He sobered, though, brought around by Mr Tucker's look of soft disapproval.

"If there's anything you can't reason with him about, it's money. I'm telling you, the guy is a monster when it comes to finances."

Considering this, Mr Tucker nodded. "We'll both say nothing, then. Can you be careful?"

Kyle shrugged, still on that edge because Mr Tucker was so good at keeping him on his toes. "You can't get very far in this business without being careful, sir."

\-----

$500.00.

It was hard to accept that number, even after he'd counted the bills over and over, all the way home in the back of the Uber he'd ordered. Mr Tucker had tried to insist on taking him home but Kyle had politely declined, craving space, needing to mull over the evening because it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

A client that had literally wined and dined him, had treated him to what could be considered a romantic interlude....

Yes, Mr Tucker had his kinks, clearly, but Kyle got the feeling that their time together wasn't just about satisfying a fetish. It had seemed almost cathartic for his client.

Or maybe he was reading too deeply into it.

Either way, he'd had a wonderful, beautiful time, and now he had enough for rent the next month, maybe a little left over to buy Baby a treat.

Speaking of leftovers, Kyle's heart was light as he carried the bag into the apartment, ready to heat them up for Baby right away.

But Baby was otherwise occupied, it would seem, if his little breathy cries were any indication; weaving through the air from the direction of his bedroom. Dropping his stuff, Kyle toed off his shoes, noticing a large pair of Jordans on the floor of the foyer.

So Kenny had ended up coming over in the end. Good.

Kyle wasn't shy about heading for Baby's room and looking in, the walls and furniture stained pink from a magenta cloth thrown over the lamp. The room was cute, filled with plushies and anime figurines, a Sailor Moon poster hanging over Baby's bed, a double with star-covered sheets.

The bed wasn't empty but Kyle had expected that, eyes passing over Kenny's long back, a thin pair of legs clad in rainbow knee highs wrapped around his waist. Baby was sighing as he was thrust into, little coos that were filthy and innocent all at once.

Kyle watched because he knew the pair wouldn't mind, Mr Tucker's money burning a hole in his pocket. Thinking of him made Kyle feel inexplicably lonely, even more so when Baby stretched out his arms to grip the headboard. Kenny shifted enough so that Kyle could see Baby's face, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, eyes blinking open and meeting Kyle's. He smiled widely.

"Oh, K, you're finally home," he panted, running a hand through Kenny's shaggy blonde hair. "Lovey, look. It's K!"

Kenny obliged, turning to Kyle, Tweek's strawberry barrette clipped into his hair now; askew. "'Sup, K? How's every little thing?"

"Oh, about the same. So, I'm gonna assume you guys didn't finish the puzzle, huh?"

"We got distracted," Baby chimed in, stating the obvious. "Come over here, K. Please?"

Kyle did, crawling across the bed to lie next to Baby. He curled close, feeling the way he trembled when Kenny started to move again, thighs wrapping tighter. Baby's little cock was leaking and hard against his soft tummy, stroked by Baby's hand. Kyle kissed his shoulder languidly.

"Oh, like that, just like that," Baby sighed softly, Kenny fucking him deep, rolling hips pushing Baby deeper into heart-shaped pillows. Behind Kyle, a family of stuffed bunnies and their friends were soft against his back, keeping vigil. He stroked Baby's arm, smiling when Kenny pulled one of his curls lightly.

"Kiss me through it, please," Baby gasped, turning to look at Kyle, pupils fat; cheeks flushing darker. He looked tired but content, a spray of light freckles on his nose only serving to make him sweeter. "I'm so close, K."

"Sure," Kyle said, leaning to lick a mouth that tasted like cherry lipgloss. It opened, panting, and Kyle kissed Baby deeper, loving him so much that his heart was warm with it. He closed his eyes, riding the wave until it broke, and Baby was crying against him, into him, and the pleasure in his voice was sugar on Kyle's tongue.

They all hugged afterward, Baby and Kenny collectively coming down, though Baby had the energy to suck bruises into Kyle's skin; languid when placing his lips on the curve of his neck.

"Did you have fun tonight?" he whispered, smelling like sweat and Lovespell from Victoria's Secret. "You were out kinda late."

Kyle nodded, thinking of the tart. There were still flavors of lemon in his mouth. "I brought you something...a gift from Mr Tucker."

"That's his name, huh?"

"Mhmm."

Baby sat up, sex-wrecked, hair in a fluffy halo around his head. Kenny rolled onto Kyle, making him giggle. "He gave you a gift? For me?"

"Yeah," Kyle said, fishing his phone from his pocket when it chirped, vague unease blooming in his stomach to see that it was a text from Damien:

_**Meet me at the club tomorrow morning. It's about that Tucker cat. I think he liked you, sweetie. A lot. Good job.** _

"So, he was nice?" Baby asked, leaning to read the text too, nuzzling Kyle's cheek. "Oh, he liked you, K. But why wouldn't he? You're amazing."

"Hush," Kyle murmured, pulling at a stocking, wondering if he could find a pair with blue bows before next time....

 _Next time_ , he thought, curling up with pleasure. It almost seemed too good to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *true story, lmao 🤣


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: smut, some violence, dubious consent (to my way of thinking), mentions of self-harm, etc
> 
> I really tried to make this one fluffier, guys. I promise. I just don't think it's in me, honestly. I tend to write what I like to read, and I'm not big on fluff as a general rule. 
> 
> *shrug* so, there's that. I hope someone likes this anyway. 🤣
> 
> ENJOY ❤❤

_**It's summertime** _   
_**Singing Al Green in your car** _   
_**Heading to a party** _   
_**And the night air feels alive** _

_**Just sitting here** _   
_**I'm waiting, oh yeah** _   
_**But he's not by my side** _   
_**Feeling dazed and I can't get him out** _   
_**Stuck in yesterday** _

_**\- Siames, Summer Nights** _

* * *

Kyle woke up with his arms wrapped around Baby the next morning, vision blurry when his eyes opened. The lamp on the side table had burned through the night because Baby didn't like sleeping in the dark, but an additional, darker cloth was thrown over the shade, obscuring the light.

Kenny had stayed over, cuddling up on Baby's opposite side, the trio curled warm and cozy under a well-worn comforter scattered with suns and moons. They'd stayed up late, talking and smoking, ultimately polishing off the leftovers Mr Tucker had sent Kyle home with; topping it all off with shots of fireball.

Kenny was already up and dressing in the half-light, pulling on a t-shirt; muscular arms covered in tattoos. He was sliding on his jeans when he looked over to see Kyle watching, fingers threading through Baby's hair as he slept soundly.

"Hey," he whispered, grinning; eyes red. "I gotta get going or I'll be late."

"They're making you work the early shift?"

"Yeah, it sucks but I'll get overtime so I can't be too pissed." Running a hand through his hair, Kenny adjusted Tweek's strawberry barrette and gestured to him. "Tell 'im goodbye for me, okay? I'm borrowing his barrette, too."

Kyle nodded, passing his fingers lightly over Baby's forehead, smiling to see the boy's nose twitching a little. "I'll let him know. Thanks for coming over last night...I don't like leaving him here alone."

"Hey, it's no problem, you know I'd do anything for him. You, too. I love you guys." Kenny was grabbing his wallet and keys now, phone in hand. He held it up. "I'll text him later to check in and say bye properly. You guys coming to Bebe's party tonight?"

"Yeah, we plan on it. We'll see you there."

"Sounds good. Later, K." Coming over, Kenny kissed Baby's forehead, reaching to tug one of Kyle's curls.

Kyle waved, curling closer to Baby when he moaned softly. "Love you, Kenny. Drive carefully."

Waving back, Kenny gave him a thumbs up before tapping the doorframe on his way out. In the ensuing quiet Kyle took a deep breath and leaned his head back, listening to the early morning sounds he'd come to expect in their apartment: water running, footsteps in the corridor and stairwell; cars starting up outside, some backfiring; birds warbling.

Baby continued to snooze, tucking himself closer to Kyle, reaching for him even in slumber. Kyle stroked his hair, wanting him to get as much sleep as he could - Baby had awful insomnia, night terrors sometimes; any sleep he could get was greatly appreciated and needed.

Turning his head, Kyle watched shadows on the far wall, falling over posters of cute characters Baby favored; Totoro, Bambi, Chii from Chobits; he liked being surrounded by soft elements that soothed him.

Kyle thought about Mr Tucker and smiled slowly, wondering what his bedroom was like; probably understated and elegant like the rest of his apartment. He wondered, too, if he'd ever get to see it.

He also thought about his meeting with Damien later that morning, his apprehension cropping up, even though Damien had been pleased -

He'd tucked the substantial tip he'd been given inside of his underwear drawer, folded small in the back.

_Be careful, remember? Just don't be stupid and you'll be fine. It's as simple as that._

Still, his stomach clenched the way it always did when he was attempting to, or even considering, crossing Damien. He didn't do it often, and for very, very good reason.

Baby stirred then, shifting fitfully before opening his eyes, seemingly confused until he looked up at Kyle. He had pink lines on his face from where he'd pressed himself into the pillow. Kyle kissed his head, his hair smelling of vanilla.

"Good morning, starshine," Kyle said. "Have a good sleep?"

Baby frowned before hiding his face against Kyle's stomach. "I had a dream."

"Tell me about it."

In a muffled, little voice, Baby spoke, "I was in a room that didn't have doors or windows but all these bad things got in anyway."

Rocking him, Kyle held Baby close. "Oh?"

Baby nodded against him. "Tarantulas and stuff. Centipedes. Praying mantises."

Kyle considered this, noticing that Baby's delicate shoulders were beginning to shake. He kept petting his hair, simply to remind Baby that he wasn't alone. "Remember what we talked about? Dreams are just movies."

Baby shuddered. "Movies in your head."

"And they can't hurt you -"

" - because they aren't real," Baby finished, turning to look at Kyle with wet eyes that were a startling shade of green-gold; washed and sharp with unshed tears. "Kenny left, huh?"

"Yup, he went to work. He said bye and borrowed your barrette."

Baby snorted, yawning behind his hand. "That boy is a trip."

"We'll see him at the party tonight," Kyle said, helping Baby when he decided to sit up. The coverlet fell away to reveal him in his jams, an oversized t-shirt with a pink cupcake on the front.

"I wanna come with you to the club this morning," Baby said, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "You're still taking me to my appointment, right?"

"Is that a real question?" Kyle stretched, his spine popping quietly. "Come on, I need coffee or I'll never wake up all the way."

The Peppermint Hippo in the morning was a sad affair; faded and retro when Kyle pushed the door open, sunlight falling onto a floor covered with cracked linoleum. The bouncer wasn't there yet, a beefy, unwashed dude named Trent, his station empty as he and Baby passed by.

Bebe was opening up the bar, though, crimped blonde hair down and wild around her shoulders; glittery eyeshadow catching the neon lights of the beer signs. She was wearing a black t-shirt with the club's logo on the front, a fat-bottomed hippo wearing a thong looking over its shoulder. Daisy Dukes hugged her curvy hips and backside.

"K, Baby!" Smiling, she leaned on the bar, chin in hand. "I thought it was your day off."

"It is," Kyle replied, sliding some Lipsmackers on his mouth before slipping the tube in his pocket. "But I'm meeting Damien and Baby wanted to tag along."

"I have an appointment after this," Baby added, eyes obscured by sunglasses with star-shaped frames. He didn't want to show off his shiner, though it was fading rapidly. "K's taking me."

"Ah, gotcha," she said, going back to cutting up lemons and limes. "Damien's already here, K. He's in his office. Baby, you wanna help me open? I'll make you a Shirley Temple."

"With extra grenadine?" Baby approached, filmy tank top dipping low in the back to reveal the bumps of his spine, his sharp shoulder blades. "And cherries?"

"Anything for you, sugar beet," she said, setting a tumbler on the bar. "Will you braid my hair? It's getting on my last nerve."

Baby clapped his hands. "French braids?"

Kyle patted Baby's shoulder, content to leave him with Bebe. He didn't want to subject him to Damien any more than he absolutely had to. "I'll be back in a little bit, hon."

Baby was already rifling through his bag, most likely looking for a brush. He leaned over to kiss Kyle's cheek. "I'll be waiting."

Kyle could hear the music before he knocked on Damien's office door, playing something that sounded old, a song from a time long before this moment, and he had to admit that it wasn't exactly comforting under the circumstances. Still, he waited, shifting from foot to foot in the dank corridor until Damien told him to come in.

He did, shutting the door softly behind himself, eyes straying to the record turning in the corner of the office.

_If I didn't care more than words can say_   
_If I didn't care would I feel this way?_   
_If this isn't love then why do I thrill?*_

There was cigar smoke wafting through the dimness, acrid and making Kyle's nose wrinkle. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust but when they did, Damien came into focus. He was sitting behind his desk, counting out a wad of cash. A tumbler full of amber liquid sat close to his hand. He looked up without raising his head, dark eyes shifting to meet Kyle's. He smiled.

"There's my baby girl."

Kyle blinked. Damien only called him that when he was in a really, really good mood, which made sense considering Kyle had performed well, but the money he'd hidden wasn't far from his mind as he slowly approached.

Setting down the cash, Damien took a drag on his cigar, smoke filtering from his nose before he nodded toward Kyle, a languid gesture.

"You wore those because you know I like 'em, didn't you?" His eyes trailed downward, lingering on the lavender legwarmers wrapped around Kyle's calves.

Kyle hadn't, at least he didn't think so. He'd pulled on the legwarmers because he thought they'd be cute with his flashdance sweater and airy skirt, but if Damien wanted to assume he was trying to entice him, Kyle could go with it.

_If I didn't care would it be the same?_   
_Would my ev'ry prayer begin and end with just your name?*_

Kyle pulled out a Virginia Slim, coming over to the desk and sitting on it. "Give me a light, huh?"

"I'm starting to think you just like seeing me use this thing," Damien said, pulling out his zippo. He lit the smoke when Kyle leaned close. "Nobody forgets their lighter as often as you do."

"If that's what you want to believe, daddy." Sighing, Kyle took a drag, usually smoking in Damien's company. He'd found that focusing on his breath this way, regulating it, helped ease his nerves.

Even when Damien was happy with him he knew that he had to be careful. He let the smoke filter from lips made sweet with raspberry lipgloss.

Damien chuckled, setting the cigar aside. He gestured to the money. "That john liked you, baby girl. In fact, he paid me more than we'd agreed on. That almost never happens."

Affecting nonchalance, Kyle tapped his cigarette in the golden ashtray. "Well, that's certainly a nice surprise, isn't it?"

Sitting back, Damien pressed his fingers together, considering Kyle for a drawn out space of time, long enough for the song to end; needle scratching until the player just whirled and whirled.

Kyle could feel a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"He wants to see you again. Soon." Damien's voice was low, his strange eyes seemingly blank. He smiled again, wider. "And for double what he paid this time."

"Is that a fact?" Kyle was going to need another cigarette soon, his apprehension making him suck this one down in record time.

"Yeah, that's a fact," Damien replied. "Just what happened during your, shall we say, tête-à-tête? He told me it ended up just being you two, so." His eyes flashed, finally showing some life. "What'd he make you do to warrant this kind of reciprocity? Did this Mr Tucker put my baby girl through his paces?"

Looking away, Kyle crossed his legs, one of his ballet flats dangling from his toe. He knew what Damien wanted to hear, could see it in his eyes. He wanted Kyle to tell him that he'd been degraded, hurt; possibly made to beg on his knees while swallowing cock and cum. He wanted Kyle to describe in lurid detail that he'd been tied up and edged, whipped; screaming and panting while earning that stack of cash sitting innocently on the large desk.

He considered weaving this sort of tale for Damien, just for a moment, but he knew it wouldn't be in his best interest. He was already holding back about the tip, it wouldn't help to pile a lie on top of another; it'd just create more confusion and things to remember later.

Besides, Damien had a memory that was truly astounding in its longevity - if Kyle told him a story today and then was asked about it again tomorrow, Damien would pick up on any inconsistencies in an instant.

Oh, and then Kyle would pay. He'd pay dearly. No, it just wasn't worth it.

"We had dinner and talked," he finally said, stubbing out his cigarette and pulling out another. Damien lit it without being asked, even though he was frowning now.

"Dinner?" He asked, cocking a brow. "And talking? That's it?"

"Well, there was wine, too."

"Wine." Damien's voice was picking up an edge now, almost like he could tell Kyle was keeping something back.

Kyle wiped his neck, sweat gathering there as well. "Fine, he had me undress for him. I only kept my stockings on."

He looked over to see Damien staring at him, but he nodded. "That makes sense. He asked me what the protocol was for buying you a gift."

Kyle was glad that the lighting was so dim, otherwise Damien would've noticed him blushing with pleasure. He blew a smoke ring, watched it drift toward the ceiling. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, he wants to buy you stockings. Real specific ones, with -"

"Blue satin bows," Kyle supplied softly. He couldn't help but smile, dipping his head.

The record finally stopped its incessant turning when Damien pushed away from the desk, standing to come around. He stopped in front of Kyle, sleek in another black suit, and waited. Kyle reluctantly looked up, smelling Damien's signature scent: expensive cologne, smoke, and the lotion he liked rubbing into his hands; mellow and earthy.

"Just dinner and conversation, huh?" Damien asked quietly.

Kyle nodded, moving to take another drag when Damien stopped him, gently easing the cigarette from between his fingers and setting it in the ashtray, leaving it to smoke; tendrils of it floating upward to join with the rest of the haze.

"So you're telling me that he looked at you but didn't touch you?" Slowly, Damien placed his hand on Kyle's knee, pressing until he uncrossed his legs. Sliding his hands between Kyle's thighs, he spread them apart.

Kyle's breath caught in his throat, less from fear and more from the look in Damien's eyes; carnal and bordering on dangerous. He didn't fight when he was grabbed behind the knees and pulled to the edge of the desk, Damien moving to stand between his open legs.

"He, uh, fixed my stockings when they fell down," he managed to say, realizing how ridiculous this admission sounded when spoken aloud, but it had been nice. Unexpected. He took a deep breath when Damien slid a hand under his skirt. "It was different, you know? Mr Tucker was really polite."

A _gentleman_. 

"Polite," Damien repeated softly, nipping at Kyle's throat. His fingers were working their way beneath his panties now, coming to settle over Kyle's cock.

Kyle gasped. Damien always knew just how to touch him - when he wanted to, of course. It had been this ability that had captured Kyle from the very beginning, way back when and right in this office. Damien had had him in his big chair, Kyle straddling him, while filthy words were being whispered in his inexperienced ear:

_"You're gonna cum for me, aren't you, baby girl? You're gonna say my name while you do it, won't you?"_

Kyle shivered now, but this sensation was different than how it had been with Mr Tucker. That had almost seemed innocent, new; almost clean in how pure the desire was.

This... this was desperate and filthy. It was a feeling that smacked of the primal; something fast and greedy. _Ravenous_.

"I told you if you did well with this client we could negotiate, right?" Damien's voice was smoke filling up Kyle's mind, pushing everything else aside.

Kyle nodded, looking through his lashes; eyes heavy-lidded. Damien had stroked him until he was hard, cock straining against the flimsy material of his panties.

"Over the desk," Damien murmured, kissing Kyle's mouth full and deep. He tasted of smoke and whiskey, white teeth nipping and teasing. "That's how I want you."

It happened quickly, being pulled from the desk and turned, bent over the cherry wood. Kyle lay his cheek on its surface, panting already just to feel Damien pressing against him. Time stretched before his skirt was being lifted and his ass squeezed, Damien's hands rough, surely going to leave bruises.

"How could he have all this right in front of him and not touch it?" he asked, drawing down Kyle's silk panties slowly, so slowly. "Christ, he must be a real deviant."

Kyle's mouth was wet, words becoming lost when Damien began to finger him open, digits most likely licked and sucked to make them slick. Kyle pushed back, spreading wider. He felt one finger curl, tantalizing, before another joined.

"My tight baby girl," Damien said softly. "Always so eager for his daddy... always working so hard to please him."

"Daddy," Kyle sighed in a lost way, seeing his voice in colors that were probably pastel and hazy; a sunset fading. Damien always made him think crazy thoughts like this when he touched him this way.

Damien was deliberate when he prepared Kyle this time, opening and teasing. He gently gripped a narrow hip, squeezing fingers to feel the bones of Kyle's pelvis. If he'd been angry he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble, would've spat on Kyle's hole and barely held back when thrusting in, but today....

"So good, so fucking good," Damien said, voice smoke as he slowly pushed his cock into Kyle's heat, agonizing little pulses that made Kyle see stars in the darkness behind his eyelids. He relaxed against the desk, a hand curling next to his face. Languidly he began to suck his thumb.

When Damien began to roll his hips, fucking Kyle in that slow way that made him watery, it was all he could do to not purr like a cat.

"You're always so good for your daddy," Damien sighed, bending to kiss Kyle's back before biting it hard, almost like he wanted to leave a brand behind on warm, sweat-beaded skin.

\-----

After, Kyle was exceptionally docile while sitting on Damien's lap, listening as he was told how things were going to progress going forward.

"He wants to see you this Saturday," Damien said, working around Kyle, kissing his neck on occasion in an indifferent way. He finished counting the money, setting aside Kyle's cut, laying a hand on his when he went to lift the bills; squeezing.

"The instructions were the same as last time; casual, little makeup. No fuss. Whatever you did before obviously worked, so stay the course."

Kyle slipped the money into his bag, nodding. His back was throbbing where Damien had bitten him, but the orgasms he'd had took away some of the pain; skin still flushed and moist with sweat.

"And you're sure you two didn't fuck?"

Shifting, Kyle's thighs ached. He lay his head on Damien's shoulder, almost wanting to take a nap. "I'd like to think I'd remember if we had."

"Don't get smart. You know I need to keep a handle on my investments - how can I do that if I don't know what you're up to? Besides, what kind of client pays this much just to talk to you?"

"Damien, you know everything. It's impossible to keep a secret from you; I don't even try anymore." A vague sense of guilt struck him then, the money hidden away front and center. He kissed Damien's cheek, attempting to ease his own conscience and fears more than anything else. "Trust me, okay? We didn't even kiss."

Damien shook his head. "Fucking weird, but he's willing to pay, so whatever."

Kyle's back throbbed again, some of his guilt abating when confronted with Damien's greedy, self-serving logic.

\------

Baby was fishing a cherry from the bottom of a tumbler when Kyle emerged from Damien's office, subdued and more than ready to leave. Bebe was counting her drawer, her long hair swept back into two French braids, the ends tied with green ribbons.

"Aren't they cute?" Baby asked, gesturing to them, lips red from grenadine. He frowned when he saw Kyle's face. "Hey, are you okay? What happened?"

Kyle shook his head, checking the time on his phone. "We better go, I don't want you to be late." He glanced at Bebe. "We'll see you tonight."

Somber faced, she touched one of the shiny green ribbons. "I'm glad you'll be able to come."

"We'll bring booze," Baby said, taking Kyle's arm as they headed for the exit. Trent was at his post when they passed by, dirty red flannel overtop of his work shirt.

"Ladies," he grunted, smirking when Kyle flipped him the bird.

Out in the sunshine, Baby hugged Kyle's arm close. "K, talk to me. You have that look on your face... Mr Thorne was mean to you, wasn't he?"

"He's always mean."

Baby sighed. "There are different types of mean. You know that." He kicked at a rock as they walked down the street toward his doctor's office. "I thought he was happy with you, though. Isn't he?"

Lifting Baby's hand, Kyle kissed the palm. "It's nothing for you to worry about, I promise. Everything's fine. Damien was just... Damien. I'm seeing Mr Tucker again, though. This Saturday."

"And you're glad, right? He was nice?" Baby became quiet, holding him tighter. "He didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all. Maybe he'll send me home with more treats again." Kyle nudged him lightly.

"Oh, I hope so. That tart was delicious."

"I'm just glad you were willing to eat it, let alone finish it." Wincing, Kyle tried to walk normally despite his soreness, the bite burning on his back. Damien had milked the cum from him, quite a bit of it, but that didn't mean he was gentle when he did it. Their interlude today paled in comparison to other times, though. Kyle was grateful for that.

He'd sent a clear message, of course: _remember to whom you belong, slut. A john is a john but you only have one daddy._

_Baby girl._

"Look, don't worry about me. Just think about your appointment. Did you bring your journal?"

"It's in my bag." Baby held it up for emphasis, a darling purse shaped like a pineapple.

"Good. Tell her about the dream you had last night, okay?" Kyle pulled the door open to a large office building with an impressive lobby, letting Baby go first.

Baby took Kyle's hand as they waited for the elevator, tapping the front of his sandaled foot against the floor. "I wish you could come in with me."

"It's better that I don't. You need this time just for yourself."

Up in the office, a nondescript space where sour faced receptionists sat behind partitions of glass, Kyle took care of checking Baby in and paying his ridiculously high copay.

"It looks like there's a balance on the account," the receptionist said quietly. After making sure Kyle was listed on Baby's HIPPA form, she added, "it's his insurance, the deductible -"

"I'll take care of it," Kyle cut in, "just put it on my card with the copay."

Baby, who was still wearing his sunglasses, looked down at his hands. "Sorry."

Signing the receipt, Kyle walked Baby over to the reception area, sitting down to wait until he was called. "Don't apologize. This isn't your fault, you can blame privatized healthcare for making this stuff so expensive. What's important is that you're taken care of...focus on that."

Sighing, Baby leaned against him. "I love you, K."

"Love you, too." Kyle pressed his hand, crumpling a little on the inside at the unexpected expense. He was suddenly even more grateful for Mr Tucker's generosity, thanking his lucky stars.

When Baby was called back, Kyle told him he'd be waiting outside for him when he finished up.

"I just need some fresh air," he added. "Text me if you need me."

Baby only nodded, getting that scared look on his face he always assumed when he saw his therapist; a small animal fear like he'd been trapped somehow. Cornered.

"You'll be fine," Kyle reassured him. "Now go on."

Outside, Kyle enjoyed the sun while he ruminated, Mr Tucker on his mind, of course, even though Damien kept leaking into his thoughts. He certainly made himself hard to forget, what with the thorough fucking he'd given him.

And Kyle had enjoyed it, up to a point. It felt good, aside from the bite, which he could've seen himself enjoying if not for its implications.

 _I wonder if Mr Tucker likes that kind of sex?_ he mused to himself.

This thought made him tingle while walking down the street, sipping a bubble tea he'd purchased at a little stand. He window shopped, finding himself in front of the boutique where he'd purchased a fair amount of his lingerie in the past. He strolled in, nodding to the girl at the counter before browsing, hoping that Baby was doing okay.

Baby hadn't wanted to go to therapy at all at first. Kyle had broached the subject several weeks after Baby had moved in, watching with growing fear as his best friend refused to eat for the most part or really take care of himself; not sleeping or bathing for long stretches; pulling out his hair and drinking way too much.

It was when Kyle found out Baby was self-harming again that he'd stepped in, gently telling him that something had to give, that he couldn't go on that way.

"Let me help you," he'd begged, holding Baby as they both cried on the bathroom floor. "Please."

They'd started out slow, beginning with a long warm shower after Kyle had brushed Baby's matted hair. He'd changed him into clean clothes and fixed him some soup, making sure he was warm and comfortable. After that, they'd started researching therapists and psychiatrists, working together until Baby got back on his feet.

Now he saw his therapist once a week and kept a journal. It was difficult for him because he hated talking about the things that kept him up at night, but he tried, he tried everyday, and Kyle couldn't be prouder of him.

Still, he was always exhausted after therapy sessions, which Kyle could understand. None of this process was easy, but he wanted to believe it was helping.

"Did you need help finding anything?" the sales girl asked, pulling Kyle from his thoughts.

"Stockings," Kyle said without skipping a beat, surprising himself. "I think I might need a few new pairs."

\----

Baby was sniffling when he met Kyle later, sunglasses on and shoulders tense. He accepted the bubble tea Kyle had bought for him, quiet before holding his arm.

Kyle didn't press him to talk, knowing that Baby would open up when he was ready. They strolled through the sunshine, the bustle of the town a blur around them.

It wasn't until they were close to the apartment that Baby spoke, so softly that Kyle had to strain to hear him.

"I kind of want a coffee."

Relieved, Kyle slowed down. "Well, sure. I can make some at home or -"

Baby stopped, covering his mouth. "I want my mother's coffee. From the cafe."

Kyle was shocked into silence, hardly knowing how to respond. He groped for words that wouldn't come.

Baby stood there, Kyle reflected in his glasses, pretty and windswept in his airy summer clothes, unmoving until a sob left his mouth, muffled by his hand.

"I'm sorry, don't listen to me. Some stuff came up in therapy today that just... it fucked with my head, you know? I started thinking about my parents, the fact that they're so close, and..." he shrugged helplessly. "But they're not. They never have been, right?"

With that, he started to cry in earnest, shaking his head and apologizing over and over. Kyle went to him and wrapped him in a hug.

"We'll do whatever you want," he said. "Just tell me what you need."

"This," Baby sobbed, hiding his face in Kyle's hair. "This is all I want right now, K."  
\-----

Baby managed to calm down after a hot bath, an Ativan, and some lunch (chicken and stars, naturally); sipping tea afterward on the couch. Finding Nemo played in the background, the volume lowered.

"Maybe we should stay home tonight," Kyle said, sitting next to him, a pillow hugged to his chest. He'd taken a shower and popped a klonopin so he was feeling mellow enough, but he was still worried. "We can order in, watch movies..."

Baby shook his head, setting his mug down. "No, I want to go and I know you do too. I told you, therapy left me a little raw today, but isn't that the point?"

"Yeah, but I hate seeing you cry."

Laughing, Baby nudged Kyle's thigh with a socked foot. "That's a real issue because I cry all the time. I've been crying since we were kids... it's just my thing. Makes me feel better."

Kyle hugged the pillow tighter. "I know, I just wish I could help. Do more."

"You can't do everything, K. You have needs, too. I know you like to pretend you don't, but -"

"Fine, we'll go," Kyle said, not wanting to go down that road. "It'll be nice to see everyone, anyway."

Baby gave him a look, the same one he always gave Kyle when he was being evasive. He sighed softly. "I wanted to see Kenny, too. He's helping me with something."

Kyle raised his eyebrows in silent question. Baby just laid his feet on Kyle's lap, head tilted coyly to the side. "Can I borrow your pleated skirt tonight? It's cute as fuck."

The party was held at a house Bebe rented with two other girls, a nice enough pad with a garden growing wild in the front. In the back there was a pool, which Bebe had said was the reason they'd chosen the house in the first place.

Kyle could hear the music jumping even before they'd climbed out of the Uber, Baby in the aforementioned pleated skirt; a navy blue affair he wore with a frothy tank of white lace. His hair was held back on one side with a clip shaped like a bluebird. His skinny legs were bare, white flip-flops on his feet.

Kyle had gone with Daisy Dukes and a Raging Pussies t-shirt. He'd cut the collar, widening it so it fell over one shoulder. He wore black sandals that laced up his calves, sucking on a blow pop when they entered the house. The door was wide open, the smell of smoke and patchouli mixing with the summer air.

The living room and kitchen were chaos, bodies crushed together; dancing, drinking. There was a game of beer pong going; at the kitchen table it looked like a group was playing a heated round of Spades.

They'd grabbed drinks by the time they made it outside, stopping to make conversation with friends, Bebe kissing their cheeks before being carried away by Clyde; her boyfriend for the moment. He had a sleepy teddy bear quality about him, soft-eyed and smiling.

Baby took Kyle's arm as they walked around the glistening blue-green pool, water made choppy by people jumping into it; guests scantily clad sliding through its depths, doing handstands and playing chicken. Some couples were simply making out, pressed up against the tiled sides, bare skin rubbing and fingers tangling in wet hair.

The air back here was rife with chlorine and the aroma of hot dogs and burgers being grilled. One of Bebe's roomies, a grad student named Sophie, was passing out food while sipping a Heineken.

Kenny broke from the fray eventually to find them, sopping wet in orange swim trunks. He tugged one of Kyle's curls, his usual greeting, before pulling Baby close to kiss his mouth. Baby, wearing heart-shaped sunglasses now, pressed against him, rising up on tiptoe.

"You guys want some Molly?" Kenny asked, leading them to his stuff littered on the grass. He dug out a ziplok full of pills and held it up.

Baby looked to Kyle, usually deferring to him over stuff like this. It wasn't that he couldn't take whatever he wanted, he just trusted Kyle's judgment much more than his own.

Kyle considered it while taking a nip of his Malibu and Coke, back aching steadily. Getting fucked up actually sounded immensely appealing after dealing with Damien's unpredictability and worrying over Baby.

"Yeah, but look after him, okay?" Kyle said, nodding to his bestie.

"I always do, more than you know." Kenny winked, drawing out the pills before placing one on Baby's tongue, doing the same with Kyle.

Kyle swallowed, glancing toward the pool and thinking about just jumping in, but something in Kenny's voice held him back. "Baby said you're helping him with something. Wanna explain?"

"Oh, K, it's nothing," Baby said, sliding off his flip-flops, wiggling his toes in the soft grass. "Really."

"Yeah, I'm just looking for someone on his behalf," Kenny chimed in, standing to nibble on Baby's nape, arms wrapping around his waist.

Kyle blinked. "Who?"

Baby lowered his sunglasses then, the glow from the pool and the strings of Christmas lights on the trees washing over his face, the uncharacteristically hard look in his eyes.

They also called attention to the bruise still healing on his skin. Kyle's stomach clenched, having seen this expression on Baby's face in the past, usually when he split*. It always made him uneasy.

"We're just gonna take care of unfinished business," he said, touching his eye briefly before settling the sunglasses back in place. "You feel me?"

Kyle's stomach clenched up tighter. "Yeah, I think I can put two and two together." He glanced at Kenny. "You found him?"

Kenny nodded, running a finger under the waistband of Baby's (Kyle's) skirt. "That sorry ass motherfucker lives over on Elm. Has a wife and two kids."

"I got his license plate number," Baby added softly. "He should've been more careful."

A coldness moved through Kyle's bones at his tone, what they were all talking about without really saying the words. A small thrill was creeping into his blood too, but he couldn't be sure if it was from the Molly kicking in or the thought of retribution.

Baby had just looked so destroyed the night it happened, blood on his thighs, in his hair -

"Don't get in trouble, Kenny," he murmured. "You can't afford to get locked up again. And you better not get yourself hurt."

Kenny gave him a million dollar smile, reminiscent of the ones Damien usually supplied; not reaching his eyes, more sinister than friendly.

"I can handle myself. Besides, I'm not going alone... I'm taking some of my boys. We'll make it work."

Baby was glowing again, back to his usual sweetness. "See, K? No need to worry, so lighten up. You wanna go swimming?"

Kyle shook his head, suddenly wanting to lie back in the grass and watch the stars come out. A euphoria was growing in him like a fire being stoked to life, taking its time but that was part of the beauty.

"Well, I do! C'mon, kiddo!" Laughing, Kenny picked up Baby and slung him over his shoulder, heading for the pool. Baby giggled to beat the band, pretending to resist.

"Wait, my glasses! Be careful, Kenny!"

\-----

The Molly made the party a blurry haze. Kyle was consumed by all the colors, the sounds, the heat of bodies around him. He danced and drank, lost a round of beer pong, almost did a keg stand.

Eventually he ended up in the pool, pushed in and sinking down to the bottom, trails of bubbles floating upward as he looked toward the surface, rippling and distorted. The stars wavered in the black sky and he wondered if that moment was similar to death, suspended briefly in nothingness; held hostage by breathless inertia.

When he resurfaced some of his high was evaporating, disorientation and a faint headache building in his temples. He climbed from the pool to look for Kenny and Baby, finding them in the shadows falling across the large yard; far from the tumult and tangled together.

Baby's skirt was hiked up over his hips, panties around one leg as Kenny fucked him slowly, hands clenched on his back. Little throaty gasps were whispered against Kenny's skin, and in that moment Kyle was struck with that sense of loneliness again; utter alienation.

Seeing them made him remember being bent over Damien's desk several hours before, held down the way he liked, and yes, he'd come and it had felt so good....

But a small part of himself wished that someone had been there to kiss him through it.

This realization made him choke up, the back of one wrist pressing against his mouth. He retreated slowly, not wanting Baby to see him there, watching and on the verge of crying. No, he wanted to be alone, or at the very least, somewhere else.

It wasn't long before an Uber came to collect him, spiriting Kyle away. He'd stumbled out of the backyard through the door in the fence, avoiding the party as much as possible. In the backseat of the car he texted Baby with clumsy thumbs, telling him he felt sick and to have Kenny bring him home.

_**Be good. Text me when you get in, please.** _

As the car glided through night-hushed streets, Kyle nearly dozed, spent from the day; wanting to outrun his thoughts and himself, unable to do either. When they passed by Tweak Brothers Kyle flipped the building off, wishing he had a brick so he could throw it right through the big front windows.

Too soon the car stopped at an upscale apartment building and Kyle climbed out on unsteady legs, holding his sandals in his hand as he took the stairs up to 309. Biting his lip hard, he was still asking himself what the fuck he was even doing as he knocked, waiting -

He was just relieved that he didn't hear old music through the door, almost deciding to leave when it opened and there was Mr Tucker. His eyes widened when he saw Kyle standing there in his damp clothes and bare feet, curls fuzzing up from the pool water drying in them.

"Kyle?" He spoke the name like it was something sweet, and he looked so dear in his flannel pajama pants and flawless white t-shirt. "What are you doing here?"

A sob he'd been holding in all day, though he hadn't known it, escaped Kyle's mouth when Mr Tucker asked him that, because he didn't know. He really didn't know what he was doing right now. He just shrugged, eyes burning.

Mr Tucker stared at him and Kyle was sure he'd be told to leave, bothering this elegant man at such a late hour - it was unforgivable, wasn't it? Christ, they didn't even have an appointment and if Damien found out Kyle had done something this stupid and thoughtless -

"Come here," Mr Tucker murmured, opening his arms.

Kyle blinked, looking up at him. "Sir?"

Mr Tucker waited, and though he didn't smile he still seemed so open, so kind.

Inviting. _Safe_.

"Please," he said, arms still open.

Dropping his shoes, Kyle obeyed, going to him and allowing warm arms to gather him close. The sensation of being wrapped up, contained, engulfed him and it was as if the weight of the day slowly began to disappear; pushed back until Kyle could deal with it again.

"I'd like you to come inside," Mr Tucker murmured against Kyle's hair. "Okay?"

Kyle nodded, taking a hold of Mr Tucker's shirt. It smelled clean, like detergent and water. "If you don't mind."

"Not in the slightest. Now," pulling away, Mr Tucker opened the door for Kyle, "shall we?"

Kyle rubbed his eye, smiling even though he suddenly wanted to laugh; giddy little trembles fluttering in his belly. He gave Mr Tucker a cheeky look.

"We shall."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If I Didn't Care - The Ink Spots
> 
> *Splitting is a symptom of borderline personality disorder where a person is unable to hold opposing thoughts and sees everything as black or white.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: smut, slight power exchange, some light bondage.
> 
> Took a mental health day bc I just wasn't feeling it when I woke up this morning. Sometimes I'm too anxious to sleep. Does anyone else ever feel that way? It's annoying. 
> 
> Anyway, this is what I do when I don't want to work, lmao; write kinky fic bc I'm here for it. I love exploring this stuff; no shame, guys, it's all good. (For the most part.)
> 
> And consent is super sexy, just saying. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like and if not, I'm sorry? Hey, I tried 🤣
> 
> ENJOY! ❤❤

_**I'm so into you** _   
_**I can barely breathe** _   
_**And all I wanna do** _   
_**Is to fall in deep** _   
_**But close ain't close enough** _   
_**'Til we cross the line, yeah, yeah** _   
_**So name a game to play** _   
_**And I'll role the dice, hey** _   
_**Oh, baby, look what you started** _   
_**The temperature's rising in here** _   
_**Is this gonna happen?** _   
_**Been waiting and waiting for you** _   
_**To make a move** _   
_**Before I make a move** _

_**\- Ariana Grande, Into You** _

_**\---** _

_**Gee baby, ain't I good to you** _

_**There's nothing in this whole world too good** _   
_**For a boy so sweet and true** _   
_**Gee, baby ain't I good to you** _

_**\- Peggy Lee, Gee Baby, Ain't I Good to You** _

* * *

Mr Tucker's apartment was nice and warm, Kyle was happy to note. After climbing out of the pool and dragging himself through the darkness to get to his front door, a chill had worked itself into Kyle's skin that was slowly making him shiver. Rubbing his arms, he stood in the foyer and waited, not wanting to track a mess across Mr Tucker's pristine white carpet with his dirty feet.

"You may set those there," Mr Tucker said, indicating a place on the floor for Kyle's sandals. "And I'll hang up your bag."

Kyle handed it over without protest, slipping his phone out of the side pocket first. "Just in case," he said. "I want to make sure Baby gets home safely."

Mr Tucker nodded, hanging up the bag in the coat closet. Turning, he seemed to notice Kyle's hesitation. "Are you alright?"

"My feet," Kyle said, holding one up for emphasis. "I don't want to ruin your carpet."

He was afforded a dry look. "I'm not worried about that, Kyle. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Nervously, Kyle tiptoed quickly across the carpet, facing yet another conundrum when he reached the flawless couch. He stopped, peering over his shoulder to see Mr Tucker approaching with raised eyebrows.

"Your couch -"

"Kyle, I'm going to insist that you try to relax," Mr Tucker interjected. His shirt was slightly moist and rumpled from coming into contact with Kyle's dirty clothes. "Sit, please."

Kyle obeyed, detecting that calm sternness showing up in Mr Tucker's tone that he'd heard the last time. He bit his lip with pleasure, arranging himself on the couch so he could do the least amount of damage possible, perched on the edge.

"That doesn't look comfortable," Mr Tucker said, crossing his arms.

"Well, to be fair it's hard to get comfortable when you have wet denim riding up your -" Kyle stopped himself when he saw Mr Tucker's frown beginning to deepen. "I mean, my clothes are kind of wet, but you already knew that, so -"

Mr Tucker held up a hand. "Undress, please, and I'll run you a bath."

Kyle's face flamed, not from being told to get naked but the idea of being pampered this way, especially when he'd come over uninvited, foisting his company on this man....

"Oh, no, please. You don't have to do that, I'll just deal with it and," Kyle fumbled for words, hands messing with his phone, flipping it over and over. "You know what? I should just go, shouldn't I? I'm being so rude right now and you don't owe me anything. I mean, we barely know each other and -"

"Take a breath," Mr Tucker said quietly, the way he had before when Kyle started working himself into a tizzy. "Can you do that for me, please?"

Kyle tried, though he sort of felt the way he had when he'd been in the pool, looking up toward the night sky; bubbles, distorted stars, his curls wafting weightless around his head. It was a trapped, directionless sensation, but he wanted to please Mr Tucker, was desperate to obey.

It felt _good_ when Mr Tucker seemed happy with him, he realized. Warm.

Safe.

With that in mind, Kyle tried to take deep breaths, starting out shallow until they lengthened. The tightness in his chest and stomach began to ease, and he stopped fumbling with his phone.

"Much better," Mr Tucker soothed. "Would you like bubbles in the bath? I also have bath salts..."

Deep breaths, in and out. "Anything you choose is fine, sir. I'm not picky."

Mr Tucker's expression softened. "Something to help you calm down, then. I'll go set everything up while you undress."

Kyle gave him what he hoped was a saucy little smirk. "Oh, you don't want to watch this time?"

This was rewarded with a lip twitch; not a smile but Kyle was satisfied all the same. Mr Tucker left the room, leaving Kyle to his devices. He turned, the large windows glowing faintly from streetlights and the waxy white moon drifting through fragile-looking clouds.

Vivid memories of stripping in front of these very windows, in this very room, thrilled him endlessly, and Kyle almost felt dreamy as he rose to undress, imagining he was on stage and Mr Tucker was, once again, the only one watching him.

Observing. Assessing with those gray eyes that lit up when Kyle listened, when he was _good_.

"Oh, I want to be so good for you," he murmured, slipping his shorts over his chilled legs, kicking them off. Next came his t-shirt, leaving Kyle in pink cotton boy shorts edged with lace; a little blue ribbon on the front. He stretched his arms over head, enjoying the feeling of being naked, wanting Mr Tucker to see him again.

"No stockings, though," he pouted, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and beginning to pull.

Suddenly, he felt a shift in the room and he looked up to see Mr Tucker there, quietly watching in his serious way; his special brand of intensity.

"Your bath is almost ready," he said, meeting Kyle's eyes, his own not sliding to ogle. "Are you?"

Wordlessly, Kyle slipped his panties down slowly, sliding them over his thighs and calves. He drew out the action, wanting it to linger, until the panties were discarded in a heap next to the rest of his clothes. Straightening, he tossed the curls from his eyes, cock warm as it began to fill with blood.

"Coming, sir."

The bathroom was a treat for the senses, comprised of tan and gold fixtures. It was less austere in its design when compared with the rest of the apartment, which Kyle was starting to realize was more of a condo.

The large sunken tub was situated next to a glass shower, steps leading up to it. It steamed, a fragrant aroma of mint and rose rising from the water's depths. Kyle entered the room, sighing at the heat wrapping around his skin, body flushed pink from being naked in Mr Tucker's presence again.

He was heading for the tub when Mr Tucker's voice pulled him back, something in his tone nearly alarming him.

He almost sounded angry, an emotion Kyle had yet to witness in him. Displeasure, yes, and disapproval, but not anger.

"Your back," Mr Tucker said quietly. "What happened to it?"

Kyle turned away, the bite Damien had left seeming to ache just by being mentioned. He shrugged, not wanting to give it more importance than it truly warranted, not where Mr Tucker was concerned, anyway.

Mr Tucker, after all, was a client. Kyle needed to keep that in mind and not blur the lines between them -

Not that he hadn't already done that by showing up unannounced in the middle of the night.

_Way to complicate things, Kyle. You've always been so good at that._

"Um, I probably should've said something sooner," he started, toying with a nipple ring.

"Yes?" Mr Tucker still sounded displeased, but calm enough.

"Well, I actually really hate talking about money, and I realize I'm imposing, so, well. That is to say -"

"I will be paying you for whatever occurs this evening, Kyle," Mr Tucker almost sighed. "I invited you in, didn't I?"

"Yes, but I just randomly showed up. We didn't have an appointment."

"I'm aware of that." He gestured to the waiting tub. "Please, the water will get cold."

"Oh, right. Yes, sir." Sacrificing his attempt to be sensual, Kyle climbed into the water, standing until he was used to it before slowly sinking down. The heat made his skin tingle, the water velvet; bubbles collapsing when he settled back. He pressed his cheek to slick porcelain, focus settling again on his benefactor for the evening.

"This is perfect," he murmured. "Thank you, sir."

"You're very welcome." Coming over, Mr Tucker sat on the edge of the tub, looking down at him. He lapsed into quiet as he seemed to study Kyle before speaking again. "If talk of money bothers you I'm content to leave it alone. I want to pay you for your time, though, because I believe it has value."

"But I forced my company on you." Gathering bubbles in his hands, Kyle blew on them lightly. They scattered like snow falling.

"I would've told you to leave if I didn't want you here."

Kyle glanced up at him. "Yeah, I can believe that. You don't mince words, huh?"

"There's no point. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Otherwise," he paused to grab a sponge, offering it to Kyle, "don't say anything at all. There's nothing to admire about a disingenuous person."

For whatever reason, Kyle found his conviction very sexy, and was suddenly ravenous for contact of any kind, so long as Mr Tucker was the one touching him. Leaning forward, he looked at him over a bubble covered shoulder.

"Would you wash my back for me, please? Sir?"

This request put that tiny light in Mr Tucker's eyes, the sight of it only making Kyle's cock feel more full. He was starting to recognize it for what it was: rising interest. 

"Is that what you'd prefer, Kyle? My washing you?"

Kyle shuddered, loving his name on Mr Tucker's tongue. He nodded, bending his legs to rest his cheek on his knees. "Yes, sir. Very much."

"Shall I wash your hair as well?" Dipping the sponge, Mr Tucker sounded playful now.

"You can do whatever you like to me, sir." Face flushing from heat and his own boldness, Kyle tried to convey through his eyes and expression that he meant this in any way Mr Tucker wished to interpret it.

Mr Tucker's eyes were blazing now, but he kept his features passive. "Do you really mean that, Kyle?"

Kyle could only nod, overcome at the first touch of the sponge on his back, warm water that smelled of roses cascading over his skin. He bit his lip hard.

"I'll keep that in mind," Mr Tucker murmured, dragging the sponge over Kyle's nape; voice deepening a tad, becoming music.

Kyle shut his eyes and started to drift while Mr Tucker attended to him, meticulous as always, but gentle in his attentions. He cleared away the sweat and pool water, making Kyle almost sob with want when he washed him in places that throbbed with need.

He didn't linger, though, which only made Kyle crave him more. Mr Tucker's handling of the situation, of him, told Kyle so much -

This was a man that thrived on teasing and anticipation, clearly. Control, too, because he seemed to delight in having Kyle in his hands and care.

"Lean your head back," he said, running wet fingers over Kyle's nape - briefly, of course. "I think I will wash your hair. Close your eyes and doze if you'd like."

Sleepily, Kyle obeyed. It'd been forever and a day since he'd had his hair washed so thoroughly, fingers massaging his scalp, working shampoo into the heavy, dense curls. Slowly, he could feel the tension leaving his neck, his shoulders.

"You have beautiful hair," Mr Tucker commented. "But I'm sure you hear that all the time."

"You'd be surprised." Curling up, Kyle wanted to crawl into Mr Tucker's lap. "Most johns just want to pull it, not admire it."

"I wouldn't mind doing both," Mr Tucker said wryly, making Kyle slowly open one eye.

"You're joking, right?"

Mr Tucker began rinsing the pretty curls, not looking at Kyle now. "No, I'm not. How does that make you feel?"

Turned on. Frustrated. Excited. Take your pick, sir.

"I like having my hair pulled," Kyle said simply. "I also enjoy rough sex, being held down. I'm actually very open to most things my clients suggest." He wrinkled his nose. "Not so much vanilla stuff, but hey, if you wanna go for the standard missionary, I don't discriminate."

Mr Tucker smiled, a small upward tilt just at the corners of his mouth; more a suggestion of mirth than anything else. "How do you feel about deferring to your partner?"

"In what sense?"

Gray eyes flicked to meet his, and now they were brighter than he'd ever seen them. "Giving up control, Kyle."

A full body shiver coursed through him then, in his blood, under his skin. It wasn't surprising to learn that Mr Tucker veered this way; their interactions thus far had certainly hinted at the idea.

"I'm used to being told what's going to happen," he murmured, thoughts of Damien serving to cloud his reverie. When Damien wanted to fuck, they fucked, if he wanted Kyle to dance or walk the street or service a client, Kyle did what he was told.

It was all part of the job, with Damien and the johns.

Mr Tucker hummed under his breath, clearing Kyle's clean hair from his eyes. "That isn't the same as willingly giving up control, Kyle. There's a lot of trust that goes along with letting someone else make decisions for you - both physically and mentally. Stand for me, please."

Kyle did, water sluicing over him. He was unsteady, groggy and sedate; so, so relaxed that Mr Tucker had to take a hold of him.

"Careful," he said, large hands splayed on Kyle's hot skin. "Let's get you dried off."

Kyle was fading, only responding by leaning against him. Soon a soft towel was being rubbed over him, then wrapped around his shoulders. Mr Tucker led him from the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. He had him sit on a cushioned stool at the blue tiled island.

"Would you like a robe or a t-shirt?" he asked, moving away. He smiled slowly. "Or would you like me to decide?"

Kyle held the towel tighter. His skin felt like it had a pulse, warm and sensitive as it was. "You decide, please."

Mr Tucker nodded, leaving the room. Kyle lay his head on the counter, spreading his thighs to accommodate the gathering heat between them; arousal making his mouth wet.

And from what? A bath? Being pampered? Lord, the things that man could do to him just by being close, even when it was all so seemingly benign.

It was a wonder.

He was moving to stroke himself when Mr Tucker returned, carrying a gray t-shirt.

"It's too big, of course," he said, helping Kyle into it.

He was right. The garment fell to the middle of Kyle's thighs, but if he bent over a little too far, his ass would be on prominent display.

Mr Tucker didn't offer him any bottoms, not that Kyle really minded.

"This is one of your things, huh?" Kyle asked, turning for Mr Tucker's pleasure. "Having me in various states of undress?"

"I enjoy looking at you."

Kyle gave the man an obvious once-over, taking in his dark hair, smooth skin, wide shoulders -

"I have to say I feel the same about you, sir."

Mr Tucker tapped his chin. "Indeed. Didn't you say, right after we first met, mind you, that I was quote, "fucking hot"? I'm remembering that correctly, right?"

Kyle snorted, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh, God, why'd you have to bring that up?"

"I found it amusing, even if your language left something to be desired. Settle in now, please, and I'll fix you something to drink."

"Ooh, a nightcap?" Kyle sat, watching Mr Tucker move around the kitchen with his typical grace. "A toddy?"

"Tea," Mr Tucker replied, filling the kettle at the sink. "Would you like a sandwich?"

Warmth flooded Kyle's heart, a tenderness. With it, though, came suspicion. What was this guy's angle, anyway?

"Okay, level with me," Kyle said with a little snap in his tone; arguably still being polite but assertive, too. "What's your goal here?"

Mr Tucker set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner. He began gathering the materials needed for tea. "Well, right now I'm trying to take care of you, Kyle."

"Why?"

He glanced at him, nonplussed. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," Kyle said, idly tapping the counter. "I mean, what do you get out of it? Damien made an excellent point, as much as I hate to admit it."

Mr Tucker's face changed, became less receptive as he continued to work. "And what was that?"

"That no client pays as much as you have just to talk to a whore. Or make them tea. Or, Christ, give them a fucking bath!"

He was still for a while, looking down at the mug he'd prepared; white with "Blackwater Falls, WV' written in curly script on the side. He'd also pulled out a loaf of artisnal bread; wheat, the slices thick inside the cellophane bag.

"I've asked you not to use that sort of language here," he said quietly. "Please respect my wishes."

With that, he resumed his work, pulling out bread and laying it on a plate. "Is turkey okay?"

Guilt curled like a bird nesting in Kyle's chest, detracting from the tenderness he'd felt before.

"I'll like anything you make, really, but if you'd just -"

"My tastes don't involve just having sex with you, Kyle, though I want to. Of course I do, but it's more than that. I like to care for people beyond just their sexual needs, and when you came to my door tonight, crying..." Jaw tensing, he opened a jar of mayonnaise. "Even when you came over the first time, and you looked so happy just to be served dinner, well...I thought there was a need that was asking to be filled. Am I wrong?"

"I'm not used to anyone taking care of me," Kyle murmured, flinching when the kettle began to whistle. "I've never expected it."

"Okay, maybe that isn't fair," he added, beginning to pick at a hang nail. "My ma loves taking care of me, she always has. Maybe a little too much, you know? She always had to have the final say in everything concerning me. "'Don't wear that, Kyle, don't go there, Kyle; your friends are bad influences, Kyle. Listen to me, I know what I'm talking about, you know I do. Listen. Are you listening? Well, are you?"'

"Breathe," Mr Tucker said, sliding a finished sandwich over, cut in half at a diagonal. "Eat a little something."

Mouth trembling, Kyle picked up the sandwich. It was cut so precisely, so perfectly, and this only made him feel more unbalanced. "She never came right out and said it but she resented Tweek - Baby - so much. She thought he was weird but if she only knew, but I could never tell her...I couldn't tell her the things I knew because they weren't my secrets to tell. But she'd look at him with this expression that I just hated every time he came over...I think," he stopped, lifting the sandwich, one perfect half, "I think that's the thing that made me leave for college without looking back. Even after I graduated, I never looked back, never had any intention of returning home, but she asked. She always asks... "'come home, Kyle; Hanukkah will be here soon, Kyle. Bring Tweek, Kyle. He's always welcome, bubala; I just want to see you. We miss you."'

"Your tea," Mr Tucker said, setting the mug down before him.

"I'm sorry," Kyle said, the food tasteless on his tongue because he knew he was ruining things. He was being too real, too honest, and he was ruining everything. "It's wonderful, all of this. Thank you."

Mr Tucker was fixing his own cup, quiet, spoon clinking against the insides of his mug. "What do you need from me right now, Kyle? I'm listening so just... talk. Talk to me."

The tears began before he could stop them, and then the sobs, and he could remember the warmth of the bath, Mr Tucker's hands in his hair, and he could hear Baby sighing softly in the shadows as Kenny fucked him; that loneliness, that _emptiness_.

Kyle was at the bottom of the pool again, looking upward, and he just wanted to be found, reached for... he wanted to be kissed through the pain but he wasn't sure how to ask for it.

"Help me, please," he said brokenly. "I'm so tired, sir, and I can't...I don't want to be strong all the time, if that's what I am. Sometimes I just want to be, not weak exactly, but... but..."

"Taken care of?" Mr Tucker asked, setting down his mug. "Guided?" He paused, then, "safe?"

Kyle nodded, giving into a moment of helplessness. "Yes, that's what I want. I want that more than anything."

Silence fell, the strange hum of his breath loud in Kyle's ears, but that was all. He met Mr Tucker's eyes and they weren't bright anymore, but they were striking in their focus, the way they regarded him like he was unbearably significant. He cleared his throat.

"Eat. Drink. We'll talk when you're done. Okay?"

Pressing a piece of paper towel to his mouth, Kyle nodded. He felt almost mindless with fatigue after his confessions. He also felt terribly embarrassed.

He'd said too much and to a client.

Idiot.

Quietly, he drank his tea, its mellow sweetness complementing the sandwich. He wasn't surprised that Mr Tucker had paired the spread so well, it was right in line with his nature so far; fixated on details.

"My phone," Kyle said, suddenly pushing from the island, frantic because he'd forgotten it, hadn't checked it since having his bath. Rising, he hurried from the kitchen, ignoring Mr Tucker's look of concern.

In the living room, Kyle checked his texts, relieved and a little disheartened to see Baby's message:

_**Got home safe, K. Kenny's staying over so I'm not alone, but I miss you. I'm worried about you, too. Are you okay? Are you mad bc I asked Kenny to help me with that thing? I'm not trying to be bad, I just think I'd feel better if... well, you know what I mean. You do, don't you? :(** _

_**Text me to tell me where you are... are you coming home tonight? It's already so late, and I always have trouble sleeping when you aren't here. I love you.** _

"Everything okay?"

Mr Tucker was watching when he put his phone down. "How's Baby?"

"He's... fine. Fine. Home okay." Kyle set his phone down, feeling oddly deflated, detached in a sense. "Kenny's with him. Oh," he added, "I haven't mentioned him, have I?"

"No."

"He's our friend. A good friend. We all went to a party tonight, took some Molly," he laughed, touching his mouth. "I fell in the pool. It was so quiet. Know what I mean?"

"Kyle," Mr Tucker said gently.

Kyle looked up, lost in that underwater feeling. "Yes, sir?"

"Come to me, please."

There was heightened authority in his voice, not angry, not stern, but it was assured, something worth listening to. Kyle did as he asked, going to him.

"Do you want me to take care of you tonight, Kyle?"

"I do, yes. Please."

Mr Tucker cupped his face softly. "Do you want to sleep?"

Kyle nuzzled his hand and sighed. "No, I don't think so. I'd like you to touch me instead."

Mr Tucker tipped Kyle's head back, eyes fire, and ran a thumb down Kyle's cheek. "Are you sure?"

Nodding, Kyle dared to kiss the thumb sliding soft over his face. "Please, sir. I want to be good for you."

Mr Tucker pressed his cheek to Kyle's forehead, just for a moment, before speaking in that same authoritative manner. "Go to my room, then. It's down the hall on your left. Wait for me on the bed, please. I'll be in shortly."

He let out a breath, squeezing Mr Tucker's ruined shirt. "Yes, sir."

The bedroom was as minimalist as the living room, composed of dark furniture and a large bed with a navy blue comforter. The headboard was heavy but simple, the side tables with matching lamps. Kyle blinked when he turned on the light, the glow golden through their smooth shades.

He thought, briefly, of Baby's lamp burning through the night, keeping the bad things away, the creeping horrors. But they usually managed to slip inside anyway, filling his dreams.

"Kenny's with him, he'll be fine," he murmured, going to the bed the way he was instructed, becoming calm from obeying.

Sitting, he folded his hands in his lap while swinging his bare legs. He wondered if he should undress but decided not to; after all, Mr Tucker hadn't told him to do that, had he? Rather, he waited, anticipation building in him, the heat of it settling between his legs; pulse kicking up slightly.

Just by waiting; left to wonder what Mr Tucker planned for him and wanting to receive it so, so badly.

The desire and curiosity was almost painful by the time Mr Tucker entered the room, stopping to consider Kyle waiting on the bed, hands folded.

"This is my demure pose," Kyle said with a smile. "You like?"

A dry, soft chuckle. It made Kyle almost glow hearing it because thus far Mr Tucker hadn't shown a great deal of mirth. It felt like a hard won prize. He preened, wanting to please the man further.

"I was going to undress but you didn't tell me to do that, sir."

Moving now, Mr Tucker went to a chest of drawers and slid the top one open. "You're right, I didn't, and if it pleases you I'll expect you to follow my directions to the letter going forward. Good job, Kyle."

Kyle almost purred. "Thank you, sir, and yes, that would please me very much. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to do the same. What do you want from me right now?" Mr Tucker pulled out a couple of items and closed the drawer, turning back to meet Kyle's eyes.

Almost trembling, Kyle mouth became even wetter to see the rope and scarf in the man's hand. He swallowed, cock beginning to ache, while thinking back to their first meeting; Mr Tucker adjusting his stockings and imagining his tongue running up his thigh.

"I want to feel you on me, your tongue," Kyle said softly. "Your mouth. Sir."

"Where?"

Slowly, Kyle spread his thighs, tracing fingers up the inside of his leg. "Here, and," he almost sighed, pulling up the long t-shirt and brushing his hand over his cock, the slit already damp. "Here. Please."

"Or," he added, nearly forgetting that he was supposed to be here for Mr Tucker's pleasure, not his own. "I can go down on you, sir. I'd also like that."

"Maybe next time," Mr Tucker said, coming over. He showed Kyle the articles in his hands.

"I've been tied up before," Kyle said, eyeing the white rope, the silken scarf. "I like it... as long as it isn't too tight. This one john tied my hands with a torn t-shirt and it hurt like a bitch...I had to stay that way while he fucked me through an entire Spill Canvas album. Gag."

Mr Tucker frowned. "It should never be too tight. That asshole clearly had no idea what he was doing."

Kyle's eyes widened. "You actually cursed."

Eyebrow raised, Mr Tucker parried, "so did you and I apologize. I just hate hearing about scenarios like that... he could've really hurt you with his ignorance."

"It's just an occupational hazard," Kyle shrugged. "At least that's how I've always looked at it."

"Still, it's unforgivable. You tie someone incorrectly and they could lose circulation or dislocate something." Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be doing a simple knot with you tonight, arms behind your back. Unless you think you can refrain from touching on your own?"

"I'm not allowed to touch you?" Kyle was surprised at the intensity of the disappointment that washed through him; wanting to stroke Mr Tucker's smooth dark hair, his face; those high cheekbones.

"In the future, yes, you may, but I want you to focus on what you're feeling this time, Kyle. This is for you." He smiled, some of the severity in his expression evaporating. "It's a reminder that you don't always have to be in control, too. Let go."

"Now," he added, holding out a hand. "Stand and I'll undress you. Are you comfortable with being blindfolded?"

Obeying, Kyle stood with the other's help, raising his arms as Mr Tucker pulled his shirt up and over his head, warm currents of air stroking his skin. He ran a hand up his arm. "Yes, that sounds nice, actually."

"Lovely thing," Mr Tucker murmured, brushing fingertips over one of Kyle's nipple rings. "You really didn't feel it when you had these done?"

Kyle laughed shortly, too preoccupied with the way Mr Tucker was touching him, careful fingers tugging lightly before sliding to the other nipple. The rings glinted in the lamplight, sparkling almost.

"I was so high on Adderall I really couldn't feel much of anything, and Baby was there to talk me through it." Sighing, he pressed closer to the fingers caressing him. "The dude that did it wanted to take pictures of me for his portfolio, or so he said. Damien said no, of course."

"Of course?"

Kyle nodded, biting his lip gently. He tipped his head back to feel Mr Tucker's fingers trailing down his belly before being taken away.

"He said he wanted to protect my image. Hilarious considering I dance naked for strangers several days a week. He's weird like that, though. His decisions aren't always exactly logic-based."

"I see. Please turn for me and put your hands behind your back."

Kyle did, shuddering when touches were passed over the curve of his spine, the insides of the arms he'd placed behind himself.

"That bite looks like it hurt," Mr Tucker murmured, not touching it directly; fingers straying close.

Kyle was beginning to haze already so he didn't want to dwell on the bite. It would only sour things, just like talking about money.

"I like pain," he said simply. "Certain types, anyway."

"And the bruises?" Mr Tucker cupped Kyle's ass gently, holdovers from Damien's rough handling. Kyle moaned softly.

"I enjoy being spanked, sir. Grabbed. I like anything that really makes me feel the other person's interest... and pain feels so good afterward. The ache's like getting a mild sunburn... you carry the heat around in your skin. It's a reminder of what happened, a physical memory."

Taking a hold of Kyle's hips, Mr Tucker pulled him back, close. He laid a kiss on the curve of Kyle's shoulder. "I think we should start now. What do you know about safe words?"

"What, like the stoplight system?" Becoming pliable, Kyle felt the soft rope being wrapped around his wrists, giving himself to the sensation of being held and contained. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yes, and it works well. Green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for stop. Okay?"

"Oh, sir," Kyle almost laughed from giddiness, "why would I want you to stop? You paid for me."

Mr Tucker froze. "That's no reason to disregard your needs, Kyle. We aren't doing this to dehumanize you."

"Yes, sir. I know." Almost whining, he groped to tug on Mr Tucker's shirt with his bound hands. "I was only kidding. Please, don't stop." Glancing over his shoulder, Mr Tucker was watching him with a grim expression. "Green."

He winked.

This roused a smile from his partner, who went back to his work. "Naughty thing. Eyes forward, please."

Mr Tucker made quick work of the restraints, testing and pulling them when he was done. "Too tight?"

Kyle tried to move his arms, happy that he couldn't; satisfied with the rope against his skin. It was comfortable knowing that the choice of movement, at least for now, was taken from him - with his approval, of course. It felt warm, like a security blanket or the bath Mr Tucker had given him.

"They're perfect, sir."

"Good. And now..." trailing off, Mr Tucker placed the blindfold over Kyle's eyes, the smooth material blocking the light and only making Kyle feel more relaxed. He closed his eyes, wanting to sink further into the darkness, his mind.

Little butterfly touches grazed his back, sliding upward before he felt a kiss on his nape.

"Oh," he said under his breath, leaning into it, weak-kneed.

"Feel okay?" A dark, low voice spoke next to his ear.

Kyle could only nod, squeezing his thighs together. Senses sharpening without his sight, the sensation of being touched at all, no matter how small, was magnified, almost painful in how raw it became.

"Like this," Mr Tucker instructed, turning Kyle and backing him toward the bed; he sat, poised on the edge, this time with his thighs spread wide; hardly demure. His bound hands brushed his back and even that felt erotic at the moment -

"Please," he said, breaking a little just from the buildup alone, starting to see that being tied was foreplay in its own right. "Sir, I need you. I need you so much."

A tug on his nipple rings, this time both at the same time. He gasped, tipping his head to the side.

"Calm. Let me take care of you." Fingers that were achingly warm and light trickled over Kyle's stomach, over his pubis, and settled on his thighs, squeezing. "You wanted to feel my mouth on you here -"

A long touch on the inside of his left thigh and then the right; lingering. Kyle whimpered, arching slightly.

"And here?" a large hand cupped Kyle's cock, so hard now and flush against his belly. He felt a thumb on his damp slit, stroking. "Is that right?"

Kyle whined, a plaintive sound of desperation, but, oh, it was so delicious to be teased this way. Mr Tucker was as deliberate in the bedroom as he was everywhere else, it seemed.

"Already so wet for me," Mr Tucker said, pleasure in his voice. "Taste."

There was pressure on Kyle's panting mouth before fingers were pushed between his lips. He tasted his arousal on Mr Tucker's skin, salty on his tongue. He lapped it up greedily.

"So good. Are you an eager slut for me, Kyle?"

Kyle nodded, still with those fingers, that wonderful, heady taste, on his tongue. They withdrew, allowing him to speak in a breathless way, his sunset voice; hazed as he slowly began to drop.

"I want to be your good, little slut, sir. Please take care of me."

"As you wish."

Mr Tucker began to lick the soft, sensitive skin of Kyle's inner thighs then, slow, agonizing passes of his wet tongue as Kyle trembled beneath him; hands on watery knees to keep them apart. Kyle strained against the ropes, glad to be held back, to give up a little of his power; breathless with it.

Otherwise he'd be curling his fingers in Mr Tucker's hair and tugging him close, urging toward his cock which hadn't been touched yet, and it needed it; hot, nearly throbbing with that deep need.

But Mr Tucker seemed content to make him wait, to make the hunger grow, nipping Kyle's thighs, hands straying from his knees and stroking his calves.

Kyle was almost vibrating now, panting, and he bowed his head, nearly wanting to cry because he was so stimulated; so tired from being teased.

"Sir, please," he gasped when Mr Tucker cupped Kyle's balls, massaging them with his thumb. "Please, just..."

"Tell me what you need, Kyle." He stopped touching completely then.

Kyle was on the verge of screaming but he kept his voice level, though it wavered. "I need to come, sir. Can you please... can you help me?"

Mr Tucker hummed. "Well, I have been neglecting something very important, haven't i?" With that, he wrapped a hand around Kyle's cock, pumping just a little, pulling a cry from the other's mouth.

"Right there," Kyle almost sobbed. "Oh, God."

"You're so pretty when you're desperate like this, Kyle."

Warm wetness enveloped Kyle's cock then, making him keen, and tears gathered in closed eyes as he sank once again into that underwater sensation, falling to the bottom of the pool to look upward at the stars, but this time he wasn't thinking of death so much as he was considering the beauty, the almost helpless loveliness of the moment -

Bound, vulnerable, in the glorious darkness so he could truly feel what Mr Tucker was doing to him; sucking gently and holding his legs open, his tongue licking under Kyle's cock. He took him deep, slow, and Kyle, in his exquisite desperation and perceived powerlessness, was weak to it, already beautifully close.

Whimpering, Kyle spread himself wider, toes curling, trying to pump himself into Mr Tucker's mouth but stopping when fingers held him tighter.

"Please, please, please," he gasped, undone. Trembling. Smoke was gathering in his head as a tightness built in him. He thought of Damien but this detracted from his abandon-

Damien would never suck his cock. No, he expected Kyle to be the one on his knees, grateful to take his medicine as Damien worked at his desk, fingers clenched in red curls as the mascara bled down Kyle's cheeks.

Slackening, Kyle started dropping into a dazed state, lying at the bottom of the pool and stretching out. Drool pooled in his mouth, falling from the corner of his lips.

"I'm so close," he whispered, uncoiling.

Mr Tucker responded by taking him deeper, something a john had never done, deep throating this way. The standard client seemed to think that this sort of service was demeaning; they had no issue demanding it of Kyle but to have it done to him -

"God," he sobbed, raising his head as his back arched. "Oh, fuck!"

He came hard, right in Mr Tucker's warm mouth, the ache and yearning in his blood so much fire, and the bubbles were floating up, up; up toward the waiting, distorted stars; seen through the blue-green water that captured him.

It went on for an unknown amount of time, his orgasm, and it was so good; an insubstantial word, but it fit. In the sparkling smoke that filled his brain, it fit; perfect in its simplicity for such a profound, much needed release.

When it was over and Kyle was shaking, the heat was drawn slowly away from him, and full lips were pressed to his own, making him taste his arousal again, made better by Mr Tucker's flavor; tea and mint and just him -

Kyle moaned quietly against Mr Tucker, panting softly; almost shy now. A tongue was licking into him, and Kyle wanted the ropes removed so he could pull him close, hungry to reach for him and feel him.

"Thank you, sir," he said, his words vapor; wrapped with weariness and the glow of boneless satisfaction. "I hope I was good for you."

The blindfold was lifted from his eyes then, ushering in the golden lamplight; he blinked, coming back to himself, and when he did Mr Tucker was there, watching him with what had to be pride.

"You were perfect for me, Kyle," he said, kissing him again. "My good, obedient boy. I couldn't be more pleased."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mentions of childhood abuse (in a roundabout way, but still), suggestive language, slight violence.
> 
> You guys, I'm fighting the worst case of writer's block but I hope you like this either way. I enjoyed writing it so I sincerely hope you like reading it. Just trying to climb out of the proverbial valley right now 🤣
> 
> I hope someone's reading and if you still are, bless youuuuu! 
> 
> ENJOY ❤❤
> 
> PS: thank you so much for the wonderful comments on the last chapter. I'll respond to all of them when I'm actually awake bc right now my ass is dragging 😭😜 its been a long week, guys

_**My name is Lolita** _   
_**And I'm not supposed to play with boys** _   
_**Moi?** _   
_**Mon cœur est à papa** _   
_**You know, le proprietaire** _   
_**No!** _

_**Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy** _   
_**So I simply couldn't be bad** _   
_**Yes, my heart belongs to Daddy** _   
_**Da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, dad** _

_**So I want to warn you, laddie** _   
_**Though I know that you're perfectly swell** _   
_**That my heart belongs to Daddy** _   
_**'Cause my Daddy, he treats it so** _

_**\- My Heart Belongs to Daddy, Peggy Lee (written by Cole Porter** _

* * *

**Aftercare**.

 _Aftercare_ used to be a word that Kyle had only heard of in passing. It was never something he expected for himself, so he'd become accustomed to going without it, regardless of what a john (or Damien) put him through.

Mr Tucker, however, seemed to thrive on it. If anything, he took it very seriously, and he began the process as soon as he'd untied the rope binding Kyle's arms, massaging his wrists gently; moving upward until he was working the knots and kinks from his shoulders.

"Are you always this tense?" he asked, rubbing a particularly tight spot in Kyle's back; working it in careful circles with deft, warm fingers.

"I guess so." Kyle was leaning into Mr Tucker's touch like a cat under the hand of its master, eyes closed and drifting in a haze of post-orgasm bliss; prolonging the sweet, sweet afterglow. He'd come nice and hard, and just thinking about it made his stomach clench with satisfaction, fingers straying to touch himself idly.

The kiss had been a nice touch too, which was a surprise. Typically Kyle couldn't stand kissing clients. He was honestly surprised that he tolerated Damien's lips on his mouth, not that he really gave him much of a choice in the matter.

But Mr Tucker had kissed him like it meant something, like Kyle was a _person_ ; not just another pretty boy he got to play with for an evening. At least, that's how it had felt to Kyle.

"Here, drink this, please," Mr Tucker said, handing him a bottle of water before going back to rubbing Kyle down, focusing on his neck now. "Massages like this release waste products into your blood... it's important to stay hydrated so you don't feel sore."

"You really know your stuff, huh?" Kyle tipped the cool water into his mouth, savoring the feeling of it trickling down a throat that still ached from being exquisitely fucked.

"I try to," Mr Tucker said wryly. "You're stiff through here too," he added, brushing his fingers over the sides of Kyle's neck.

Kyle sighed, leaning back against him. He felt warm and flushed and so wonderfully relaxed...pampered, really. All of this seemed like such an embarrassment of riches.

"You don't have to do all of this, you know." Looking over his shoulder, Kyle studied Mr Tucker's handsome, stoic face. "Sir."

Gray eyes flicked to meet his, the lamplight reflected in them. "I'm aware of that. Please face forward." Gently, he reached to squeeze Kyle's hip.

Kyle obeyed, almost giddy with being instructed. Even for small things, he loved Mr Tucker's quiet authority. He didn't get the sense that he'd be hurt if he didn't comply, not in the traditional sense, anyway.

He'd probably be punished, though, and that struck him as absolutely _delightful_. He reached to stroke himself again.

"Obedient boys ask before touching themselves," Mr Tucker commented. "Were you aware of that, Kyle?"

Biting his lip, Kyle took his hand away. "I guess I do now." Shifting, he tried to keep still as Mr Tucker worked. "So, I have to ask for permission going forward?"

"It's preferred, yes."

"Does that apply to everything?"

"Define everything."

"Anything I do or think of doing in your presence, sir."

Mr Tucker became quiet, fingers pressing lightly under Kyle's jaws. After a moment, he spoke. "Yes, unless I tell you otherwise, I'd like you to ask."

Kyle shivered, sighing softly. "I think I can manage that."

Mr Tucker gently pulled one of Kyle's curls. "Shall we extend this arrangement to outside of our meetings, Kyle?"

Kyle really wanted to turn around to see if Mr Tucker was teasing him but he refrained - it was a trial, but he stayed still; he _obeyed_. 

_Eyes forward, Kyle._

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"I'd be interested to know if you'd be open to more of a 24/7 arrangement." Reaching around him, Mr Tucker slid his hands down Kyle's thighs, kissing his shoulder softly. "I find you very intriguing, Kyle, and I'm also worried about you; coming to my door in the state that you did. It seems like you need guidance and reassurance, but if you aren't ready for something like that, you need only tell me."

 _Christ, this guy's a smooth talker_ , Kyle thought, dissolving away under Mr Tucker's hands, his warm mouth.

"May i, uh, think about it first?" His voice actually _quivered_ , and here he thought that sort of thing only happened in cheesy romance novels. "Sir?"

"Of course. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with. In fact, we can do a trial run; get you acclimated, so to speak."

"Yes, please. I'd like that."

"Very well. Did you finish your water?"

Feeling drunk, Kyle lifted the bottle and shook his head.

"Drink the rest, please, and then go into the bathroom and wash up. I'll fix you a snack. Something sweet, I think."

Kyle nodded, accepting the kiss that Mr Tucker placed on his nape; a soft, brief touch. 

It was still enough to make him quiver again - not that he'd ever use that word in casual conversation.

\----

"Something sweet" turned out to be cocoa with whipped cream and a scone with raspberry preserves. Kyle ate it at the island in the kitchen while wrapped in one of Mr Tucker's big, fluffy robes. Mr Tucker drank tea but didn't eat, seeming to take all of his satisfaction from watching Kyle enjoy himself.

"Do you think Baby would like one?" He gestured to a plateful. "There's plenty to go around."

"Oh, yes. Baby absolutely loved that tart you sent me home with...I haven't seen him eat that much in, well," Kyle trailed off, thinking. "It's been a while. He's really picky."

"I'll wrap some up." Mr Tucker began to do just that, smiling fondly when Kyle took a big bite of whipped cream. He reached to brush a thumb over Kyle's bottom lip. "Messy thing," he said, pressing the digit against Kyle's tongue.

Kyle kissed it lightly, happy as a clam to be sated in so many ways; belly full of treats and the lingering effects of what had occurred in the bedroom; muscles looser than they'd been in ages.

"So, you want me to be obedient," he said casually. "Why is that, exactly?"

Mr Tucker snapped a lid on the container filled with scones. "Well, to be direct, I enjoy being in control, I find obedience incredibly appealing, and, this is just my impression, but I think you enjoy it. In a sense, I almost feel like you crave it."

Kyle considered this. "I do enjoy being instructed... it takes a load off my shoulders. I can relax and just kind of go along without having to think of every little thing." More shyly he added, "I also like pleasing you, sir. It makes me happy when you like what I'm doing. It's...gratifying, like I'm actually doing something right. I'm not sure how to explain it any better than that."

Mr Tucker smiled warmly, and Kyle was happy to note that he was much more forthcoming with his smiles than before. They just needed to crack through the ice first, it would seem.

"You did very well," he said. "It seems to me that you have a lot on your mind most of the time, what with the way you look after Baby and working for Damien."

Some of Kyle's buzz waned when Damien was mentioned but he didn't let it register in his face. In fact, he played it off. "Damien can be demanding but he isn't anything I can't handle. Speaking of which, about tonight... and payment-"

Flushing, he toyed with his spoon. "You know, I do hate talking price or whatever, like I said, because it can become nasty really quick-"

"I agree. Money is one of those subjects that breeds discord, I've noticed. You never have to worry about broaching the matter with me, though; rest assured, I want nothing more than to compensate you for your time. I'll go grab my wallet."

"Wait, please!" Kyle all but fell off his stool trying to reach for him. "That's just the thing, sir. I still have the money you gave me before in my dresser... where I keep my unmentionables, to be precise, and it's kind of like a Telltale Heart sort of thing."

Mr Tucker raised a brow. "A Telltale Heart thing." He didn't pose it as a question.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I know it's there but no one else does and it's always kind of in my head, because if Damien found out I was going off the record and not reporting all my earnings to him he'd... well, he's a pimp for Christ's sake, I think you could imagine how he'd respond." He cleared his throat. "Sir."

"I thought we decided that we'd keep the money changing hands, outside of Damien's influence, just between us. You earned it, Kyle."

"Yeah, he won't see it like that, though. Technically, I only know about you because of him. He charges a finder's fee, I guess you could say." Kyle tried to laugh but it fizzled when he saw Mr Tucker's eyes narrow. "Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but...I don't know, I can be careful, keep secrets, but if he finds out -"

"Fine, you're right. Cash is messy, anyway."

Kyle let out a sigh of relief. "Right, so -"

"I'll just open up a private account for you and put the money there. Damien will never learn of it unless you explicitly tell him it exists." Appearing satisfied, Mr Tucker picked up his mug and took a drink, smacking his lips. "Let's see, for this evening, what do you feel is a fair amount?"

Kyle could only stare, wide-eyed. "Wait, what?"

"Compensation, Kyle. What's your time worth to you?"

"I, uh, well." He shook his head. "No, seriously, what?"

"Right now Damien's been charging me a hundred an hour, which I offered to double after our first meeting. Would you call that fair?"

Upon hearing that, it was all Kyle could do not to let out a colorful string of expletives. "A hundred an hour?! He's been giving me, at most, forty-five an hour! That lousy son of a bitch! This is highway fucking robbery!"

Breathing heavily, Kyle's hands were clenched into small, shaking fists when he looked up to see Mr Tucker calmly sipping his tea, but an aura of disapproval emanated from him regardless.

"God, I'm sorry, I know you hate when I curse but this really sucks. Damien's been taking me for more of a ride than I thought. Imagine taking over half of my earnings when I'm doing all the work! He's never been screwed raw in the back of a Chrysler New Yorker, or had to take pictures for a bukkake fetish site, and yet he's -"

"You know what," he added, popping his lips, "I have no right to complain, do I? Damien's obsessed with money, he's a pimp, and I'm just a whore. Why am I acting like he'd give me a fair deal? I mean, really? Wake up, Kyle."

"No one deserves to be taken advantage of," Mr Tucker said, reserved as he sipped more tea. "Regardless of their profession. So are we in agreement that I'll open an account for you and pay you two hundred an hour for your time and efforts?"

Kyle twisted the robe in his still shaking hands, acutely uncomfortable with this subject. It almost felt like thievery accepting money - and so much of it - from someone as seemingly decent as Mr Tucker.

But, decent or not, Kyle still needed to eat, pay rent, and help take care of Baby's medical expenses. And he sure as hell wasn't going to get a fair shake if he kept playing the game Damien's way. 

"If you think that's for the best," Kyle sighed, "I trust your judgment, and I really am sorry for cursing."

"You're forgiven," Mr Tucker replied gently, a tiny gleam cropping up in his eyes. "I'll just have to think of a suitable punishment the next time you forget yourself, won't I?"

If Kyle had a tail, it would've been wagging after hearing that, but he maintained his dignity, more or less. Rather, he scooped up some raspberry jam with his finger and lapped at it in what he hoped was a coquettish fashion -

The way the gleam in Mr Tucker's eyes ignited told him he'd been successful. Throwing caution to the wind, Kyle was on the verge of asking him how he'd tasted on his tongue when he heard his ring tone going off in the living room.

"Christ, that has to be Baby. I never texted him back!" Sliding off the stool, Kyle hurried from the room and snatched his phone from the couch, arrested with guilt. He answered once he saw Baby's name on the display; an image of the two of them making heart shapes with their hands the accompanying photo.

"Baby, oh, my God, are you okay? I'm so sorry I didn't text you sooner, I was -"

He looked up to see Mr Tucker standing in the doorway, leaning casually against it.

Kyle gulped. "Indisposed, you could say."

He could make out a little sniffle on the other end before Baby spoke in a tremulous voice.

"Kenny had to leave so I'm here alone. I tried to sleep because I didn't want to bother you, but," he gulped, "I had another nightmare, K. I'm scared."

Kyle's heart fell, physically pained to hear the kittenish fear in Baby's voice. "I'll be home in just a little bit, okay? Just try to stay calm. Did you take some medicine to help you relax?"

"A k-pin. It hasn't kicked in yet. I'm sorry for ruining your night, not that I really know what you're doing or where you are."

Kyle felt his cheeks heat the tiniest amount to hear the subtle reproach in this statement. Baby did have a tendency of becoming slightly passive aggressive when he was upset. He let it go. After all, he should've contacted him sooner.

"I'll tell you all about it when I get home, okay? I'm bringing you a treat, too."

"I just want you, K."

"Just hold on. Deep breaths." Glancing at Mr Tucker, Kyle shrugged. "See you soon. Love you."

Another sniffle. "Love you more."

Disconnecting the call, Kyle tapped his phone against his hand, staring into space. He'd been in a nice warm place after being taken care of by Mr Tucker so well, and while it lingered, the serenity, he could feel the coldness encroaching; the return to reality.

It took some getting used to, but eventually he snapped back and gave Mr Tucker a wan smile.

"I've gotta cut out, I'm afraid. It's super late, anyway, and I'm sure you need to sleep."

"I would've been fine with you staying over," the man replied. "But I understand if your friend needs you."

Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat that had cropped up quite unexpectedly. Stay over? He'd never done that with a john before, unless you counted passing out in a Super 8 after doing too many shots off an age-worn nightstand with a Gideon Bible lying inside - untouched, of course. 

Kyle didn't, naturally.

"You're sweet, you know that?" Kyle asked, almost like he was in a trance. "You can't be real, there's just no way. You're a serial killer, right? You're just grooming me so you can turn me into a lampshade or something."

Mr Tucker shook his head a little, as if to rid himself of this suggestion the way a dog would shake water off its fur. "As...imaginative as that is, no, I'm not a serial killer."

"Yeah, like you'd actually tell me if you were," Kyle teased, removing the robe (reluctantly; it was just so cozy!) and setting it aside to begin dressing in his gross, damp party clothes. "At any rate, I had a great time, really. I can't remember the last time I felt so good."

"I assume we're still on for our appointment on Saturday?" Going to the coat closet, Mr Tucker retrieved Kyle's bag; taking out a jacket as well and slipping on some flip flops.

"Um, yeah. 5 pm sharp, Damien gave me all the details." Kyle stared at Mr Tucker's feet. "First of all, I never would've pegged you as a flip flop guy so, yeah, that's a surprise - and cute, of course, but what exactly are you doing?"

"Driving you home." Mr Tucker shouldered Kyle's bag and picked up his keys from a peg by the door. "Do you need a hoodie? The weather's usually pretty brisk at this hour, even in summer."

It was the way Mr Tucker said _brisk_ that made Kyle's heart jump in an exciting way, unable to stop himself from coming over and throwing his arms around him.

"Even if you turn out to be a depraved killer I still think you're sweet as hell," he said, rubbing his cheek on Mr Tucker's chest. "Sir."

He felt Mr Tucker stiffen up momentarily, sure that he'd overstepped an invisible barrier, but then a hand was petting through his curls. "Let's get you home, okay?"

Clutching the container of scones, Kyle couldn't help admiring Mr Tucker's sleek black car as they drove through the quiet, mostly-deserted streets. He ran a hand over the leather interior, the plush seat beneath him.

"This is so nice. What do you do for a living, anyway?"

"Nothing special," Mr Tucker replied, adjusting the rear view mirror. "I work for Daschle Private Equity doing credit default swaps."

Kyle nodded, pretending he had any idea what that actually entailed. Mr Tucker sighed.

"Yeah, I know. Guys like me tanked the economy."

Kyle patted his arm in a sage, gentle way. "So it is true."

Mr Tucker glanced at him, eyebrows raised until Kyle began to snicker. "Dude, this is just like the whole wine thing. I have no idea what default swaps are, but clearly they pay well."

"Well enough, but I can't say my career is really that interesting. Even I get bored talking about it."

"Is that why you pay pretty boys like me to show you a good time?" Posturing, Kyle slid a hand into his curls and winked; blowing a kiss for good measure.

Mr Tucker rolled his eyes but seemed amused, turning back to the road. "Partially."

Kyle considered this, dismayed that they were nearly to his crappy apartment building. Tensing, he realized he really didn't want Mr Tucker to see his home, not after being steeped in his opulence.

"Do you do this a lot? Pay for people like me?" He asked, trying to distract himself from his growing apprehension. Maybe he could tell Mr Tucker to drop him off at the end of the street. "You said that you've been disappointed in the past."

"I have, yes, and no, this isn't something I do often. In fact, if I'm being truthful, I was very reluctant to try again at all."

"Then why did you?" Kyle asked, cocking his head; curiosity piqued.

The car was slowing down as they got closer and closer to Kyle's building, and on impulse he touched his companion's arm. "You can just drop me off here, sir. It's like a two minute walk, tops."

Mr Tucker frowned. "Kyle, it's the middle of the night, I don't feel comfortable dropping you off on a dark street. No, I'm driving you to your building."

"But -"

The man looked at him with an expression that wasn't necessarily severe but brooked no argument. Kyle sighed, sitting back and staring straight ahead.

"There's no need to pout," Mr Tucker teased, "I'm just concerned for your safety."

"Yeah, but now you're gonna see my crappy apartment building." Every second they drew closer Kyle's stomach clenched, his complex just ahead - a far cry from the stately condos Mr Tucker resided in with the pretty fountain in front of the building; a marble pineapple with water cascading from the top. "I'm up on the left, number 213."

"I'll wait until you're inside." Pulling up to the curb, Mr Tucker put the car in park, letting it idle. "And you don't need to be embarrassed about where you live, Kyle. You work and pay your own way... you handle your affairs and help your friend as much as you can. I think you should be proud of yourself."

For some reason, this praise, spoken in such a practical way, and what's more, with what he had to perceive as the utmost sincerity, made Kyle's face flame with pleasure.

"Thanks," he murmured, bashful while looking down at his hands. "That means a lot... sometimes I feel like I'm not doing anything right, you know?"

"Well, we'll need to work on helping you see your own self worth, won't we?" Reaching over, Mr Tucker stroked Kyle's curls. "Will you text me when you're inside? I want to make sure you're okay. And Baby too, of course."

Kyle would've loved to do that; hell, he'd even send Mr Tucker a "goodnight" text, but that was just asking for trouble.

"Um, Damien checks my texts and stuff like that. Not just me," he added quickly, "he does it for everyone. I mean, he set up my phone plan and pays the bill; out of my earnings, of course, so -" He shrugged. "Sorry, but I can come out on the balcony and wave to you. How's that?"

"That'll be fine," Mr Tucker said, though his expression suggested that Kyle's bit of information didn't sit well with him. He didn't argue, though. "Then I'll see you on Saturday, then?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Kyle said, opening the door; readying to slide out. "Thank you for tonight, sir."

"It was my pleasure." Leaning over, Mr Tucker pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss against Kyle's cheek. "Now hurry along, please. It's late and I'm sure you're tired."

Beaming, Kyle nodded. He climbed from the car and practically floated up the stairs; letting himself into the quiet apartment and setting down his things on the kitchen counter. Touching his cheek, it was almost like he could feel the kiss beneath his hand, and even though he knew he was being a ninny, he delighted in the feeling.

Going to the balcony, he opened the sliding glass door with a flourish and went to the railing, waving to Mr Tucker, handsome and looking up at him from the lot; standing next to his dark, idling car. He waved back, and under the dirty yellow lighting of the streetlights, Kyle could see that he was smiling.

"K, is that you?" Baby's tiny voice wafted to him from the living room and Kyle turned, searching through the shadows to see him there, watching with wide eyes; wearing a large t-shirt of Kenny's that hung on his frail frame.

"Come here," Kyle coaxed, reaching out a hand. "Mr Tucker is in the lot, you can see what he looks like."

"Oh, so that's who you were with," Baby said, coming over on kitten feet covered in fuzzy pink socks. He looked over the railing and waved, a little gesture with curled fingertips. The wind passed through to ruffle his already messy hair. "He's so handsome, K. You should've invited him up."

"I don't know if I'm ready for that," Kyle replied, gazing down at Mr Tucker like a damsel in a Shakespeareon play or sonnet. If only he had a handkerchief or rose to throw to him. "But I had a really good time with him tonight."

Baby grabbed his arm and squeezed, smiling widely before calling out, "K said he had a good time! Way to go, honey!"

"Will you shut up?!" Kyle whispered fiercely, tugging Baby back toward the apartment- after blowing Mr Tucker a kiss, of course. "Christ, I don't know why anyone thinks you're so shy, not when you do stuff like that."

Baby brushed off this comment like a duck shaking water from its feathers; ironic considering Kenny called him duckling on occasion (because of his yellow hair). Instead he followed Kyle into the kitchen, watching while he opened the container of scones.

"Are those for me?" he asked, his eyes slightly red; most likely from smoking and crying. The smell of weed was pretty loud at the moment.

"They're for _us_ and they're super good," Kyle replied, offering him one. Baby took it with his little fragile fingers, daintily pulling flaky pieces off. He groaned after placing a bit in his mouth.

"Oh, my God, so amazing." He took a bigger bite, smearing his face with jam.

"Messy, you eat just like a little kid," Kyle said, fondly wiping the mess from Baby's face with a napkin. "I'm glad you like it. Mr Tucker was happy to hear you liked the tart."

Turning, Baby leaned against the counter, tapping a fuzzy socked foot against the floor. "Your Mr Tucker is quite a catch, isn't he? For a john, anyway."

Picking up a bottle, Kyle shook an Ativan into his palm, swallowing it dry. "I guess you could say that. He's polite, respectful..."

"Not to mention rich," Baby added, licking jam from his fingers. "Right?"

Kyle frowned. "I don't know about that."

"He's driving a Jaguar XF," Baby replied, taking another scone. "Those start at, like, fifty grand, K. Maybe it isn't the most expensive car on the market but still. It's not like he's driving a Saturn Ion or something."

"You and your weird obsession with cars, I swear. You don't even want to get your license."

"What does that matter? Driving is too much pressure." Baby shrugged, his lips red from being licked. "I'm just saying, he's loaded... at least compared to us."

Becoming annoyed, Kyle snapped the lid on the scones. "Fine, he has money. I don't really care about that. He's nice, okay? So let's just drop it."

"Is there a reason you snuck off without telling us where you were going?" Baby asked, coming over to lean against him, warm and smelling of baby powder. "Kenny and I looked for you, I was freaking out until I checked my phone."

In an instant, Kyle was back in Bebe's backyard, watching as Baby got railed by Kenny in the shadows while the party carried on without them, and he could hear his soft breaths, his sighs. He thought of the pool, still and muffled while he looked up toward the dead night sky, the remote stars.

"You guys were busy and I just wanted to get away," he muttered, not wanting to go into that, how removed he'd felt; detached. It had been an ugly, isolating feeling. He'd sooner forget it. "It's no big deal, you know?"

Baby glared at him until Kyle looked down, ashamed.

"I should've let you know I was leaving. I'm sorry."

"That's all I'm asking for," Baby said, reaching to hug him close. "We have to take care of each other, right? Didn't we make a promise when we were little?"

Hiding his face in Baby's shoulder, Kyle nodded. He suddenly wanted to cry, seeing Baby in his memories, back when he'd gone by his real name, and he'd snuck into Kyle's room late at night to cry in the darkness, wrapped in Kyle's arms until he finally fell asleep; shaking like he was terribly cold.

"I'll always be here for you," Kyle said, words muffled against Baby's bony shoulder. "I promise." Pulling away, he swiped at his eyes quickly. "Where did Kenny go, anyway?"

"He left to handle something," Baby said vaguely, turning to walk out of the kitchen. Kyle followed, curious but also apprehensive. Something in Baby's affect concerned him, a detachment of sorts. "He said he'd come back but that was hours ago. Whatever, you wanna smoke?"

"Sure, let me change into my pajamas first."

They went into Kyle's room, tranquil with its teal paint and oak furniture. It had an aquatic appeal, with framed photos of lighthouses and seascapes hung on the walls. Kyle snapped on the lamp before he began to undress, Baby lying on the bed and lighting up a joint.

"Did Mr Tucker bite you? On your back?" Baby asked, wisps of smoke drifting from his mouth. "Looks pretty painful."

"No, he wouldn't do that unless I asked him to," Kyle replied, slipping out of his underwear and tossing them in the hamper. Going to the dresser, he slid the top drawer open, nervous once again about the wad of bills hidden away. He wasn't even sure if he should tell Baby about it, which only made him feel guilty.

"Was it Mr Thorne? It had to be, right? He's bitten me before... just not on my back."

"I guess he was trying to make a point," Kyle said, pulling out comfy panties and a big t-shirt, wanting to match Baby's aesthetic. "You know how he is when he wants to reassert himself."

"Oh, yeah," Baby nodded, handing over the joint when Kyle lay down next to him. "I haven't had to meet with him in a while. Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm working tomorrow, I'll grab your schedule for next week." Taking a drag, Kyle watched the smoke float toward the ceiling, wondering what Mr Tucker was doing in that moment. Probably sleeping.

Or possibly thinking of him? That'd be nice. Kyle smiled just at the idea.

"So, what'd you do while you were with your handsome Mr Tucker?" Baby asked, rolling over to throw his arm across Kyle's waist. "What's he like in bed? Gentle? He looks like he would be."

Kyle took another hit, holding it for a few long beats before letting it go. Ordinarily he would've disclosed everything with Baby, but this time he felt the need to keep some of it to himself; a delicious secret he could revisit when the world felt especially cold and unwelcoming.

"He's very gentle, and kind," he murmured, pressing the joint into Baby's hand. "But we haven't fucked."

Sitting up, Baby peered at him, eyebrows knitted. "Seriously? Then what have you been doing? I mean, how long can you really make conversation with a client? They all want the same thing."

Kyle sat up too, standing to go and light some incense and candles. "That's what I thought too, but this guy is different. He gave me a bath -"

 _He also made me food and reassured me, but he was also great at tying my hands, teasing me, and making me come like it was_ his _job to get_ me _off, and not the other way around._

Christ, just thinking about it was enough for Kyle to bite his lip, wanting to touch himself but craving permission first.

_Just what have you done to me, sir?_

"A bath?" Baby asked, the joint smoking between his fingers as he stared at Kyle. He ran a hand through his hair. "Is he, like, into infantilism or something? I mean, no judgement, but -"

"No," Kyle sighed, getting the incense going (Dragon's Blood) and lighting candles; turning off the light to create a dreamy, cozy atmosphere. He went back to bed, laying his head in Baby's lap and looking up at him through the glow and shadow. "He just likes taking care of people. He's a...nurturer, I guess you could say."

"Hmm," Baby hummed, staring off into space. "So he's like you."

Kyle hadn't considered this. He shrugged. "I guess." But it was so much more than that, what with Mr Tucker's penchant for obedience and control. Kyle liked to care for people, Baby in particular, but he never wanted to control them.

Now _being_ controlled, well... that was another story, one he'd be very interested to explore. At least, Mr Tucker's version of the concept. 

"Anyway," he said, slipping a hand under Baby's t-shirt to rub his soft, downy thigh, "enough about me, huh? Let's talk about the dream you had... if you're okay with it, of course."

"I've had it before, in different variations. I've told you about it. My shadow dream," Baby replied, taking a huge drag and holding it like a champ. He let out the smoke slowly. "The shadow came into my room when I was sleeping, but it was a different room... you know which one I mean."

Kyle nodded, remembering Baby's childhood room with the posters of animals on the walls; kittens, pandas, piglets. Anything cute and sweet. Anything soft.

 _Safe_.

He'd had a small twin bed as a kid, with chinpokomon sheets and a blanket on top that his grandma had crocheted for him. Kyle could recall snuggling underneath it with Baby _(Tweek)_ on cold winter days when they'd skipped school and Mr and Mrs Tweak were watching their coffee shop.

"The shadow watched me for a while, really quiet, but I could hear it breathing. It sounded like a fucking wind tunnel, and I knew it couldn't be human. It just stood there and watched, and I guess it didn't realize I was awake, watching it too, but then it leaned over -"

Beginning to tremble, Baby's fingers were shaking when he scratched harshly at his temple; the rasp of fingernails loud as they scraped his skin.

"It was on top of me, holding me down, and even though it was a shadow I couldn't see through it, and it smelled like cologne and alcohol -"

He started yanking on his hair then, hard, and Kyle didn't tell him to stop, just turned and wrapped his arms around Baby's waist, holding him tight.

"I'm right here, it's okay. It's okay," he murmured.

"That shadow feels heavier every time it visits me," Baby whispered, beginning to sob softly now; behind his hand. The joint was forgotten, smoke continuing to drift. "It didn't speak this time, though. That's the only good thing. Usually it'll tell me to stay still, to be quiet -"

"You don't have to do anything it tells you to do," Kyle said, sitting up to ease the joint from Tweek's hand, depositing it in the ashtray on he nightstand. "Just do what feels right for you."

"What if I don't know what feels right?" Baby asked softly. "What if _nothing_ feels right, K? What then?"

"Then we'll keep trying until we find something that does," Kyle said, kissing Baby's cheek over and over. "Do you want me to brush your hair?"

"Would you, please?" Baby was still shaking but he managed a watery smile. "The k-pin and the weed are helping. With you here, I think I'll be able to sleep soon."

"Good, here. Lean back." Pushing back against the headboard, Kyle bent his legs so Baby could lean against his calves, allowing Kyle to pull a brush through his hair. "Is this helping?"

Baby hummed softly, almost like a cat purring, reaching back to touch Kyle's leg. "Were you going to stay over with Mr Tucker if I hadn't texted you?"

"Dunno. Maybe."

"K?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like this guy? I mean, do you like _like_ him? Or is he just another John?"

Kyle rubbed at the place where Baby had viciously scratched at himself, wanting to soothe it. He also wanted to buy himself some time while formulating a response.

"I'm not sure yet," he finally said, which he figured was a fair answer at this point in time. He was intrigued by Mr Tucker, attracted to him and somewhat tender, but did he "like like" him, to use Baby's childish turn of phrase?

It was just too soon to tell. Still, he wasn't closed off to the possibility.

"Just be careful," Baby added, yawning and becoming limp as he relaxed against Kyle. "Mr Thorne won't like it if you mix business with pleasure. That's like, his number one rule, isn't it?"

Kyle snorted, trying to play off the cold fear creeping up his spine. "Nah, his number one rule is not to fuck with his money."

"Oh, yeah," Baby replied, sounding dreamy now, very close to dozing. "You'd have to be crazy to try something like that."

Kyle cleared his throat, softly scratching Baby's scalp. "Definitely, completely out of your mind."

\------

The Thursday evening crowd at the Hippo was a little more generous than the Tuesday morning folks. Kyle could tell he'd done way better this go around, even before he'd scooped the cash from the glitter-covered stage.

For now, he was spinning around the pole before stopping to lean over, clutching it, ass up and back arched. He winked at the tall drink of water almost climbing onto the stage, wanting him to think he was shaking his naked ass cheeks just for him.

The fucker looked like he had money. Maybe not Mr Tucker level money, but still, he'd do for the moment.

Letting go of the pole, Kyle got down on his hands and knees, crawling over to the patron in question, completely bare save for his nipple rings, stilettos, and a frail black thong. As always, he had glitter on his shoulders, his thighs. He liked to sparkle when he was on stage; it made him feel like a star, especially with the music pulsing like a heart. 

Stopping in front of the well-dressed man, Kyle got on his knees, rising up while toying with his panties, pulling them down just a tad before his hands slid upward to play with his nipples; hard under his fingertips. 

"God, you look good," the man said, cheeks red, probably from alcohol. He looked slightly crazed, a real wolf with a fifty dollar haircut. 

"Like what you see, huh?" Kyle asked coyly, batting his eyelashes.

The man nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah."

Turning to the side and still on his knees, Kyle cocked his hip and blew the man a kiss. "Why don't you show me just how much you like it, handsome, and then maybe I can negotiate a private dance for you later on? What do you think? You, me, in the VIP room?"

The man practically tore his pants trying to pull his wallet out of his pocket, and before he knew it Kyle saw a couple Benjamins being slid into the thin side strap of his thong.

"Oh, honey," he cooed, touching his cheek. "You know just how to make a boy happy, don't you?"

"Is that your natural hair color?" The man asked, almost salivating now.

"Guess you'd have to see all of me to know the answer to that question," Kyle replied, easing his thong down just a little before the music stopped. He clucked his tongue. "Damn, my set's over. Too bad."

Crowding the stage, the man tried to reach for him but Kyle was too quick. "Wait, what's your name?"

Grinning, Kyle gathered the cash from the stage before standing, throwing the man a quick glance. "Foxy," he said, "you know, because of the hair. Have a good night, tiger."

"But what about my private dance?"

"Yeah, I'll look into it," Kyle replied, walking down the stage steps and accepting the robe the MC offered him, slipping it on. "Thanks, hon."

He winked before announcing the next dancer, his words running together in a breathless rush. "Hey, don't forget to tip the dancers and your waitresses let's hear it for Spontaneous Bootayyyyyyy..."

Sashaying over to the bar, Kyle picked up the beer Bebe slid his way, counting his money with satisfaction.

"Good haul?" Bebe asked, leaning on the bar.

"Pretty decent," Kyle said, licking beer from the corner of his mouth. "How'd I look?"

"Perfectly adorable."

"Not the adjective I was expecting but I'll take it," Kyle said, slipping the cash into the pocket of his robe; a bright blue affair with the club's logo on the back.

"Oh, before I forget, the boss wanted to see you before you left," she said, pulling away to look at a customer taking a seat at the counter. "He's in his office."

"Great," Kyle sighed, noticing the dude from before looming in his peripheral. Quickly, he moved toward the back of the club, down the seedy, dark corridor that led to Damien's office. He knocked and waited, regretting the fact that he hadn't changed before heeding Damien's call.

"Come in," Damien's smokey voice seeped through the door.

Tensing up, Kyle entered, the scene before him very similar to the last time he'd seen Damien; smoke, the smells of cigar and cologne; possibly blood. The air was blue and thick, light from the lamp on Damien's desk bouncing off it. Old music played as the record revolved in the corner; Nat King Cole lending his dulcet voice to the unsettling atmosphere. 

"I saw the last part of your set," Damien said, taking a drag on his cigar before setting it aside. "Very nice. You took that chump for a ride, didn't you?"

Damien didn't seem as friendly as last time, but that didn't mean he was in a bad mood - not necessarily, anyway.

Kyle shrugged, walking over on his high heels, his gait more of a rolling sashay because of them. Damien watched, eyes trailing downward before sliding back up to meet Kyle's.

"I made him believe I wanted him," he replied, stopping a couple feet away from Damien's desk. "That's the point, isn't it? I'm just a fantasy for people like that, not a person."

"True," Damien agreed, nodding. "You're just an ass or mouth to imagine fucking when you're on that stage...a pretty, little dream. Well, not so far as I'm concerned," he added, smiling slowly. "I've had you so many times, after all; in every way."

Crossing his arms, Kyle looked at the floor. It wasn't like this was the first time Damien had spoken this way, degrading him and the state of their relationship, but that didn't mean Kyle ever got used to it.

 _To think I used to be in love with this guy_ , he thought, cringing inwardly. _God, I was such a dumbass_.

"What do you want, anyway?" Kyle asked abruptly, almost snapping. He froze when Damien leaned forward, a particular _look_ filtering into his eyes. "I mean, you wanted to see me, daddy?"

"That's better," Damien said, thankfully leaning back. "Let's see your take first, though. Come on, pony up, baby girl."

A little shiver moved up Kyle's back when he heard that, relieved that Damien was in a better mood than he'd let on. It was still painful having to lay his hard-earned cash on the big desk, though.

Damien picked it up, running his thumb over the bills before beginning to count them. When he was done, he took his cut before placing the remaining stack on the desk, sliding it over with one finger. 

Kyle's heart sank to see how much had been taken, keeping his face blank when he collected it and carefully slid it back into his pocket.

 _More than half,_ he thought bitterly.

"Daddy's hardworking baby girl," Damien said softly, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from his desk drawer. "Let's drink to your - our - good fortune."

He poured the whiskey, a jigger in each glass, and slid one onto the desk - not very far from himself.

"Come and get it," he murmured, sliding his chair back and making it obvious what the expectation was.

_Come sit on your daddy's lap, baby girl. You know you want to._

In the past, Kyle would've lapped up this sort of attention, but now, after time spent with someone kind, he wasn't sure how to feel. He was skittish as he rounded the desk, expecting Damien to tell him to lose the robe, but he didn't speak until Kyle was settled on his lap, a hand stroking his nape.

"To us," he said, holding up his glass, smiling when Kyle followed suit. They toasted, knocking back the whiskey.

Kyle hissed through his teeth, the burn of the alcohol working its way down into his stomach.

"You always did like the hard stuff," he said, his voice more like a croak.

"Maybe that's why you caught my eye," Damien murmured, toying with one of Kyle's curls, winding it around his finger. "My little spitfire."

Kyle couldn't help but flush, covering a smile with his hand until it disappeared. He hated that he was so easy when it came to Damien, when he pulled his sweet-talk game; cradling Kyle in his lap and settling a possessive hand on his hip.

"I should take you away soon," Damien said idly. "Back to that little place we went to that one time...out on the highway?"

"The one with the heart-shaped jacuzzi in the room*?" Kyle asked, leaning against him.

"Yeah, and the mirrors on the ceiling*." Damien grinned, clenching his fingers in Kyle's robe so he could slowly pull it up to reveal his glittery, naked thigh. "I liked being able to look up and see all of you, naked beside me...remember we used the handcuffs for the first time?"

A thread of unease curled its way into Kyle's gut as he nodded weakly. Yeah, he remembered the handcuffs, Damien had made sure he'd never be able to forget them. There'd been champagne, enough blow to choke a horse, and a sobbing Kyle shackled to the headboard -

Thinking of that only made him long for Mr Tucker all the more, with his gentle hands and those soft, carefully tied ropes winding around Kyle's arms. 

"Eh, maybe soon, I'll think about it," Damien said, pulling Kyle from his thoughts. "But for now, you received a present from your new client. Isn't that nice?"

Kyle's heart fluttered. "Really? From Mr Tucker?"

"Didn't I mention he asked me about giving you gifts? Well, he made good on it. Even gave me an advance for Saturday. Dude's a class act, even if I still think he's a closet weirdo."

"Yeah, you would know," Kyle said before really thinking about it, not with the news he'd just been given, filled with anticipation. He gasped to feel Damien taking a handful of his curls and viciously tugging, making his head tilt back.

"What was that, baby girl? Is that how you talk to your daddy when he's trying to take care of you?"

Becoming still, Kyle quickly shook his head, not having meant to be provocative; not this time. Sometimes he liked it when Damien played rough, but right now he wasn't really in the mood. He just wanted to see what Mr Tucker had sent him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he said, turning pleading, wet eyes on Damien, purposely making them tear so he could wreck his mascara and make it run -

Damien _adored_ that look.

"Fine," Damien said, relaxing his hold. Reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, he pulled out a white box topped with a pink satin bow. He set it on the desk in front of Kyle. "For you."

Kyle glanced at Damien before scooting forward, balanced precariously on the man's lap while considering his surprise from Mr Tucker. Excitement made his nerves buzz as he removed the bow, the ribbon, sliding them away and lifting the lid, setting it aside.

Nestled in delicate tissue paper were a pair of creamy white stockings with -

"Blue satin bows," he whispered, lifting a stocking from the box, fingers sliding over soft, high-quality fabric. "These are really nice, too."

Damien hummed, rubbing the material between his thumb and first finger. "He spent a pretty penny on you, huh?"

"I don't know why he would," Kyle said, sifting through the paper to find several more stockings; black lace, striped, fishnet. All of the same high-end caliber of the first pair.

Damien whistled softly. "He's taken a real shine to my baby girl. Isn't that something?"

Squirming, Kyle quickly replaced the lid, wishing he'd been able to open the box by himself, so he could've truly savored the experience. He'd received gifts in the past, but never anything this nice. Having Damien looking over his shoulder soured his enjoyment, knowing the gift would only breed his avarice.

"All I can say is keep him on the hook as long as you can," Damien purred, pulling Kyle close so he could kiss his throat. "Let's milk him for all he's worth until he gets tired of you."

Hurt, Kyle sat up straighter, holding tenaciously to his wounded dignity. "Oh, like you did?"

Damien laughed, a deep, disturbing sound pulled low from his stomach. "Like that could ever happen. I just can't tie myself down to one whore right now, no matter how sweet his ass is... but I won't feel that way forever. We'll have our day in the sun sometime."

"Right," Kyle replied, throat burning. He blinked his eyes rapidly.

Taking a hold of his chin, Damien gently turned Kyle to face him, dark eyes narrowed. "I mean it, Kyle. I could never give you up, not for anything. You think I'm kidding?"

That look from before filtered back into Damien's eyes when he posed this question, making Kyle feel cold on the inside. He'd seen that look during moments when Damien had done truly terrible things, and not always to Kyle; sometimes to others and he'd been forced to watch -

Usually when Kyle was drunk or fucked up on something, but that didn't kill all the memories. No, some memories were parasites that fed on you forever. They endured.

Wanting to make that look go away, Kyle shook his head. "No, of course I don't think you're kidding, daddy."

"That's my good girl," Damien said, seemingly pacified. "Always so eager to please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I stayed in a place like this once and it was so delightfully bizarre and trashy 🤣🤣


End file.
